by James Maxey
“Why should it matter to you?” I asked.
“We’re about to break into a secret hospital housing dangerous supervillains. I think I should know if something’s wrong with your superpower.”
“Of course something’s wrong with my superpower,” I said. “To use it, I have to be shouting vile, terrible things. I tap into my anger. Every time I let loose, it rips open every emotional wound I still carry. I’m resolved never to use my powers again.”
“This must be a new resolution. When I got to your trailer, I saw the woods out behind your place were burning.”
“I went down to the river to kill myself. I was in a state of emotional turmoil and cut loose, burning everything around me. Maybe it was a survival mechanism. If I hadn’t released all that anger, maybe I would have pulled the trigger.”
“So your screaming is a good thing.”
“I don’t think you’re getting my point.”
“And I don’t think you understand your own superpower,” said Nimble. “You’re a pyrokinetic. You heat things up by agitating molecules, using sound for the energizing mechanism. I don’t see why you couldn’t set stuff on fire by singing opera. Hell, just say ‘have a nice day!’ loud enough and you should at least get stuff smoldering.”
“They tried to teach me that at the Butterfly House. When I first joined the Legion, I could use a loud, voiceless scream to burn stuff. Since I’ve got my memories back, it’s only profanity that works.”
“Maybe if you focused on—”
“We can talk about my shortcomings another time,” I said. “Are you deliberately stalling?”
“Maybe?” she said.
“Why?”
“Because whether or not I find any answers by breaking into this place, Retaliator’s going to know I’m up to something.”
“And he’ll do what? Hurt you?”
“No,” she said. “It’s not like that. But… look, what if I’m wrong? Retaliator is a huge part of my life. I was perfectly happy until I read the Butterfly Cage. Well, not perfectly, but I wasn’t miserable.”
“It’s not too late to turn back.”
“No,” she said, looking across the parking lot at the abandoned mall. “If I don’t go through with this the doubts are going to kill me. You sure this is the place?”
“Pretty sure,” I said. “I only worked with Reverend Rifle a few weeks, but during those few weeks I got to use Kracker’s computers. A lot of his stuff was encrypted, but among the things I did have access to was a partial list of the Legion’s black sites. Before Technosaur killed him, Kracker obviously had good intelligence on these sites since he broke into Malebolge to free Chopper and the Victorian. According to his files, underneath this mall there’s a secret medical facility. Few normal hospitals have the staff and equipment to handle people with skin harder than diamonds or people who can grow to the size of giants. This has to be where they took Gator.”
“Why, exactly, do we need to talk to this dude?”
“Because he broke free of his Butterfly House programming. Maybe he can help you figure out the dosages and stuff.”
“Dosages?”
“He got his memories back my using LSD.”
“Christ, no, I’m not doing that!”
“But—”
“But, A: I’d be insanely dangerous to anyone around me if I were high. B: Acid makes you hallucinate. How does Gator even know he got back his real memories? Maybe he’s just recalling details of a bad trip.”
“Except that Harry and I can collaborate some of his memories. I swear he’s the real deal.”
“Okay. I do want to talk to him. But there’s no way I’m doing drugs. I don’t want my memories back that badly.”
“Fine,” I said, taking out my phone and opening the PDF file I’d made of the blueprints. “We’ll just talk to Gator. I’m sure he must know stuff I didn’t get a chance to discuss with him. Like, maybe, where exactly the Butterfly House is.”
“That wasn’t in Kracker’s files?”
“I couldn’t find it. But obviously he knew the location, since he helped Chopper break out Harry and Valentine. The information must be in one of the encrypted folders I couldn’t get open.” I showed her my phone with the blueprints I’d downloaded. “There’s going to be cameras and motion sensors all over the upper floors. The Legion doesn’t respond to upper level intrusions. Cops are called to chase off vandals and urban spelunkers. You need a special key to make the elevators near the old food court drop down into the subbasement that houses the hospital.”
Nimble studied the plans, then nodded. “Got it. Give me two minutes.” She walked to a nearby manhole cover. Without bothering to lift the cover, she collapsed into a puddle and dripped down through the holes, leaving behind the goggles and electrical tape she normally wore for a costume. The manhole cover lifted about an inch and her elongated fingers reached through and snagged her gear. The hole closed with a clang.
“Well that was disturbing,” I mumbled. As much as I hated my powers, I knew I was lucky compared to some of my teammates. At least I still looked normal. Well, not exactly normal, since I shaved half my head and had enough piercings in my face I was probably setting off metal detectors in airports ten miles away. But at least I didn’t have rubber skin, or glowing eyes, or fur.
I crossed my arms over my chest, shivering. Virginia was a hell of a lot colder than Florida in the middle of the night, and as bad as the swampy smell can get back home, the stench of exhaust this close to an interstate was even worse. I looked up at the sky while Nimble was doing whatever she was doing. The moon was low on the horizon, barely visible through the urban haze, but it was still there. I wondered if the rest of the Legion was already slugging it out with Sterngeist. I hoped so. Someone needed to handle this big, crazy stuff. Which made me wonder about whether or not we were doing the right thing, pursuing this whole Butterfly House conspiracy. If Atomahawk was with the rest of the team, he’d likely be instrumental in saving the day. Maybe a secret school dedicated to cranking out superheroes wasn’t the worst idea ever.
On the other hand, if a man slept with a woman whose mind was clouded by drugs or booze, it was legally rape. If Retaliator was sleeping with Niko without her having the clarity of mind to even know who she really was, how was that any different? No matter what Niko said, I was glad I’d brought the gun. Maybe she didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I was past the point of caring. I was sick of telling the truth and having people tell me I was a liar. I’d been dealing with it all my life, and, if I am crazy, it’s because repeatedly being told that your truth is a lie will eventually break anyone.
The manhole cover clattered. Nimble poked her head out. She was wearing her goggles, and once more had her taped on costume covering all the thin strips of her body that needed to be covered.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
She tapped her goggles. “Retaliator built these to find motion sensors and cameras. He taught me everything I know about disabling an alarm system. We’re all clear. We could walk straight in through the front door, but it’s probably best if we head in underground. For all we know, the Legion has satellites trained on the parking lot.”
“Sure,” I said, heading for the manhole cover. “My night wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t crawl through at least one sewer.”
“First of all, this isn’t a sewer, it’s a storm drain,” said Nimble. “And, second, if you don’t want to do this you can turn back. You’ve pointed me in the right direction. I’ll figure stuff out from here.”
“I got nothing waiting for me back in Florida except for working on another draft of my suicide note.”
“You ever consider therapy?”
“It was therapy that pushed me over the edge this time,” I said, climbing down into the storm drain. “It reminded me of all the therapy sessions I used to go through at the Butterfly House. And that reminded me of all the times at the Butterfly House I was sedated, or restrained, or silenced. Literally silen
ced. I used to have to wear this thing around my neck that paralyzed my vocal cords. I fought my silence by stealing pens from nurses and writing curse words all over the walls. Then I started writing them on my skin. I got pretty good at ink pen tattoos, honestly. The therapist the Legion sent me to had a tattoo on her ankle. A butterfly. It felt like a spike in my brain when I looked at it, like someone was trying to make me snap.”
To my complete surprise, Nimble gave me a hug.
“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through,” she said. “Please don’t kill yourself.”
“I didn’t know you cared,” I said.
“I do,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes. “Seriously, Jenny, you’re not just my teammate. You’re my friend.”
“Oh,” I said.
“You sound surprised,” she said.
“I mean… we’ve barely spoken outside of missions.”
“Then let’s rectify that,” she said. “Eric’s conversational skills leave a lot to be desired. I need you as a friend just as much as you need me.”
“Okay,” I said. “Assuming the world isn’t destroyed later today and we survive our current mission, we should totally get together for coffee.”
“Excellent,” she said. “Follow me.”
We navigated the storm drains without incident. We reached a locked door that led into an underground loading dock. Nimble turned flat as a sheet of paper and slipped under the door, then opened it from the inside. From there, we took a flight of steps up into the back of an old burger joint. The place had been closed for years but still stank of rancid grease. From the corner of my eye, I saw a rat scurry along a wall. Nimble led me to the elevator. We didn’t have the special key to activate it, but it turned out we didn’t need it. Nimble pressed her fingertip against the keyhole and kept pushing. She turned her finger and the power came on in the car. When she pulled her finger out, it was still shaped like a key.
We rode down for what seemed like a really long time. The hospital was only about fifty feet below the old mall, and I was starting to wonder if we’d missed it and were heading to something even deeper, not on my map.
Then, ding, the elevator chimed and the door slid open.
We were instantly attacked by a trio of robots, because, of course there were going to be attack robots. The Legion captures a few hundred of these every year raiding the lairs of mad geniuses. I never really asked where they all went, but it turns out that if you need guards for your hidden underground bad guy hospital, repurposed robots are a cost-effective solution.
The trio attacking us were built like dogs, only with sparking tasers where their heads should have been. They pounced, then bounced, as Nimble stretched into a trampoline wall before me, carefully bending her body so that it wouldn’t touch the taser tips. Tasers mess up her muscular control, and that’s pretty much her only weakness. The robo-hounds landed on their feet and readied themselves to attack again.
I aimed my pistol right between the taser terminals of the first one and fired. Smoke shot out the tail end and it fell over, legs stiff. Meanwhile, Nimble’s fingers had turned into spaghetti strands, slipping into gaps in the remaining robots’ casings, then pulling her hands out with a jerk, holding fistfuls of wire.
“I guess the stealth part of this mission is over?” Nimble said, eying my gun.
“The dogs probably sent alarms out the second they spotted us,” I said. “Let’s hope the rest of the Legion is too tied up with this moon stuff to send anyone here to check out what’s happening.”
“We need to find a doctor or a nurse and find out where Gator is.”
“There might not be doctors and nurses,” I said. “Too many bad guys would just view them as potential hostages. The whole place is probably staffed by robots.”
“Right,” Nimble said. “Then I’ll just do a quick peek into all the rooms.
Her head sort of came apart, turning into a hundred thin snakelike stalks, with an eye atop each stalk. The stalks twanged and strummed as they went shooting off down the hallways to each side of us, disappearing through doorways and around corners. I grimaced. My new best friend was part Cthulhu-nightmare. She was still the best thing that had happened in my life since Harry.
Five seconds later, the stalks recoiled, and her head snapped back into a human shape with a twang. “I found him,” she said. “There’s only two patients here. One’s a female; I’ve never seen her without her containment suit before, but I think she’s Chem Queen. She had a run in with Atomahawk last week and looks like she’s suffered some burns. She’s got these little green blisters all over her. There’s a guy in traction in the room next to her. He’s covered in tattoos that look like scales. That sound like Gator?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Let’s make this quick,” she said.
I followed her down the hall. We passed the room where Chem Queen was being held. I looked in through the window in the door. I’d never fought her before. She mainly worked out of the Pacific Northwest. Some sort of eco-terrorist who robbed banks to fund her cause if I remembered correctly. I’d seen her reading her manifesto on TV once while she was holding about a dozen hostages. Usually, her face is hidden beneath a hazmat hood. Without the hood, she look vaguely familiar. Younger than I’d expected, probably no older than me. She was watching television with a glazed look in her eyes. Green blisters dappled her cheeks and forehead like pimples.
“Oh my God,” I said, grabbing Nimble by the arm. “It’s Blister Betty!”
“Who?”
“She was at the Butterfly House! I only met her once or twice, but it has to be her!”
“Well, the two of you can catch up if you want, but I’m here to talk to Gator.”
I nodded and followed her into Gator’s room, glancing back over my shoulder to see if any more robots were ready to attack us. The place was quiet now, the sort of quiet that’s usually a prelude for something horrible popping out of the shadows to attack.
Gator was asleep. In fact, it looked like he was dead, since he wasn’t breathing. I approached him and whispered, “Gator.”
He didn’t answer. I shook his shoulder. It felt warm. He wasn’t dead, he just wasn’t breathing because he didn’t need to breathe. That was his whole superpower. I gave him a more aggressive shake. His eyelids didn’t even flutter.
“Well hell,” said Nimble, studying the IV bag. “They’ve got him in deep sedation.”
“Smash Lass crushed his hips,” I said, glancing at his chart. “It looks like he’s had multiple surgeries.”
“He’s not waking up anytime soon,” said Nimble. “I can’t believe we came all this way for nothing.” She chewed at her fingertips, despite lacking fingernails, or real teeth. “Retaliator’s going to learn about this. What the am I supposed to say to him?”
“You could just confront him.”
“And he could just lie,” she said bitterly. “How will I know? I’ll want to believe him. Or maybe I’ll never believe him, even though he’s telling me the truth. God damn it, why did I ever have to read that book?”
“We aren’t here for nothing,” I said. “Let’s go talk to Betty.”
Chapter Ten
Job Satisfaction
Harry’s Story
Hey, now that we’re friends again, can I use your phone?” I asked Mica.
“Sure,” she said.
Unfortunately, when she handed it to me, it had zero bars.
Across the roof, Blue Bee still looked upset as she turned away from Retaliator and headed back toward the tachyon tube.
“Where are you going?” Retaliator asked.
“To finish my damned shower and get what sleep I can. It’s, what, three AM in New Jersey? I’ve got to be at work in the morning.”
“We still have to find the Prime Mover,” said Retaliator. “This attack in conjunction with the theft of the moon can’t be a coincidence. You aren’t leaving until I say you’re leaving.”
Blue Bee turned back, h
ands on her hips, and said, “Look, rumors are you’re some kind of billionaire, but not all of us are so lucky. I’ve missed too much work already over this whole ghost ninja thing. If I don’t show up for tomorrow morning’s client meeting, I’m toast.”
“You think they’ll still have a meeting after the moon vanished?” I asked.
“We’re lawyers,” said Blue Bee. “A little thing like the apocalypse won’t keep us away from billable hours.”
Retaliator pulled a phone from his belt and pressed a few buttons. “I’ve texted Davis to let him know you won’t be at the meeting.”
“Who the hell gave you that… how did you even have his phone number? I don’t have his phone number.”
“I own the firm. I’m Eric Gray.”
“You’re… shit.” Her facetted bee goggles hid her eyes, but I had the impression that her eyebrows shot up as far as they could go. Most of the Lawful Legion is public with their identities except for members of the Silent Shadows espionage team. Retaliator’s not only got a secret identity, his entire career as a crime fighter is a total secret except to maybe twenty people outside of the Legion. He’s got this whole mystery man thing going on where the general public doesn’t know if he’s real or not. Since Jenny worked with him on the Silent Shadows, I’m used to seeing him on Legion missions like it’s no big thing, but, as far as I know, there’s not a single photograph of the man anywhere on the interwebs and I definitely had no idea who he was under his mask. Honestly, I still didn’t. The name Eric Gray didn’t mean a thing to me, but it plainly did to Blue Bee.
“This isn’t permission to slack off on your job,” said Retaliator.
“Of course not,” said Blue Bee. “But… wow. Did… did you have something to do with me getting hired? Because I swear I left the interview certain I didn’t get the job. I’d fought the Spelunker and his cavemen the night before and had so much make up on to cover my bruises I could barely move my face.”
