Shades of Gray

by Jackie Kessler; Caitlin Kittredge

  His wife handed him a broom and said something in Thai, pointing at the shattered plasglass of their front window. He sighed. “Duty calls.”

  “We’re lucky to have a hero like you,” Mrs. Pak said before she stepped back inside and flipped the holosign on their door to CLOSED.

  Iridium stared for a long moment. Actual, honest-to-Jehovah citizens, thanking her for being … herself. Calling her a fucking hero, as if that weren’t the joke of the century.

  “Wonders never cease,” she muttered. Jet would have a conniption when she told her, in that oh-so-polite Jet way.

  Jet. Doctor Hypnotic.

  Shit.

  Iridium grabbed her phone again. “Boxer, bring your hoverbike and meet me by Pak’s Liquors. I need a ride to Looptown.”

  CHAPTER 16

  JET

  Corp is debating whether to reclassify Mental powers as so-called Mind powers. They claim it’s less derogatory. What they fail to understand is that calling a rattlesnake a flower doesn’t change the fact that its bite is poisonous.

  —From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #139

  Jet landed in front of the condemned building in Grid 21, commonly known as Looptown, and stared grimly at the open front doors. No Firebug.

  She tapped her comlink. “Jet, Ops.”

  Frostbite’s voice: “Ops, Jet. Go.”

  “I don’t suppose Firebug reported in, saying that she had Steele and they were on their way back, by any chance?”

  “Nope.”

  Kai must have charged in without waiting for backup. Of course. Jet gritted her teeth. Now she had not just one hero to rescue but two.

  Terrific. She sighed, lifted her goggles, and rubbed her eyes. Well, she’d have to fall over from exhaustion later.

  Replacing the optiframes to fit snugly on her face, Jet thought about options. From everything she knew about Doctor Hypnotic—thanks to all those classes back at the Academy—he was obscenely dangerous. Charging in would likely get her captured. Or killed. But she was too exhausted to risk a Shadowslide; that would put her at the mercy of the voices that came out in the dark.

  She shuddered. No, sliding was right out.

  What were her other options? Hornblower was otherwise engaged. Frostbite and Meteorite were grounded. Iridium was off being a criminal. Steele and Firebug were captured. That left Jet herself.

  She snorted. No, it didn’t. This is the sound of my pride splattering on the pavement. “Ops,” she said, “link me over to the Merc line. Bruce Hunter’s code.”

  “Connecting.” If Frostbite had a comment about Jet wanting to speak to a mercenary, let alone her former Runner, he kept it to himself. Derek had always been smart.

  On the other end of the connection, the click of someone tapping in. “Taser. Go.”

  “So it’s not a press conference,” Jet said, “but maybe you’re still interested in helping. How do you feel about rescuing helpless superdamsels in distress?”

  “I love it.” He lowered his voice, the words pouring out syrupy thick. “Is Callie in trouble?”

  Jet felt her forehead pound. Through clenched teeth, she said, “This isn’t about Iridium. Firebug and Steele have been captured by Doctor Hypnotic.”

  Taser dropped the act. All business, he replied, “Give me your coordinates.”

  She did. Just as she was about to tell him she’d wait, a piercing scream filled the sky—coming from somewhere within the abandoned building. Crap. “I have to go in.”

  “Jet, wait. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t go in alone.”

  “Whoever’s screaming bloody murder may not have fifteen minutes.”

  It was probably Firebug screaming. Kai had a low threshold for pain; Jet recalled that from her fifth year at the Academy. An image danced behind her eyes—one of Firebug cradling her shattered arm as she was whisked away to the hospital wing, shrieking the whole way there. No, Kai would break if Hypnotic was torturing her.

  Jet said, “I’ll be careful. But come quickly.”

  “Joan, damn it, you haven’t gone after Hypnotic before! Wait for me. I can—”

  Another scream—one that cut off abruptly.

  Jet switched her comlink to white noise, took a deep breath, then walked through the open front doors.

  Analyze. She took in the details quickly: dark, but her optiframes took care of that. Smells of ash, of stale terror, of dust disturbed. The building’s lobby was from circa early twenty-first century—a doorman station, abandoned; linoleum flooring, cracked and grimy; faux wooden trim, long since eroded by termites and time. Silent as the grave. Up ahead stood two figures, their backs to her. Firebug and Steele.

  Battlescan. No signs of movement, either from her comrades or from Hypnotic, wherever he was. Clearly, a trap.

  Confront. “Firebug,” she called out. “Steele. I’m here to help you.”

  No response from them—then a burst of light erupted before her eyes. Her optiframes irised, negating any damage.

  She whirled. Saw nothing.

  “I’m here for my colleagues,” she announced. “I’m not here to fight you.” Too true; she was too damn tired for that.

  “Do tell.” The voice was from everywhere and nowhere; it surrounded her, enveloped her. “And what are you that you ignore my pretty Light?”

  She turned again, keeping her frustration in check. Where was Hypnotic? In front of her? Behind? Impossible to tell. “I’m Jet. And I prefer Shadows to the pretty Light. What have you done to my colleagues?”

  “They’re fine,” Hypnotic insisted, his voice echoing. “Content. You can be too. Just look at the Light.”

  Another flare in front of her face. She batted it aside. At least it wasn’t a heat strobe, like Iridium’s. Enough talking. She turned to her mesmerized friends and reached out, summoning a creeper of Shadow. It stretched from her hand, crawled over to Firebug and flowed up until it wrapped around her waist, then looped over to Steele and did the same. She tugged. Neither of the women moved; it was like they were rooted to the spot. Statues.

  “A Shadow power,” Hypnotic said, sounding pleased. “How wonderful! You must be Night’s whelp.”

  Jet bristled. “He was my mentor.” Why was she answering him? Shut up, Joannie. Don’t give him any ammunition.

  “Shadow is genetic. Your mother or father must have been a Shadow too, little girl.”

  More flares of light, so bright that she had to release her leash and shield her eyes.

  “Tell me. Which of your parents is a Shadow?”

  Despite herself, she said, “My father.”

  “Not Night?”

  “Blackout.”

  The lights disappeared, along with the Darkness. From behind, Hypnotic said, “You’re Angelica’s girl?”

  Jet spun, summoning Shadow.

  “Stop that,” Hypnotic said. “You’re not here to fight, you said. So don’t fight.”

  Jet found herself lowering her arm. Damn it, get ahold of yourself, Joan! She clenched her fist. “Let my friends go.”

  “What? Oh yes, certainly.” He was staring at her, this tall man with his Earth-power physique beneath those prison grays, his dark hair peppered with white. “But first, tell me about your mother. How is she?”

  “Dead,” Jet gritted.

  The man’s eyes widened, and to Jet’s surprise, she saw real grief in them. “I’m so sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “How did it happen?”

  “Let my friends go, and I’ll be happy to give you a family history.”

  The man peered at her, his gaze boring into hers. “Take off your cowl, those goggles. I want to see your face.”

  “Let my friends go,” she repeated.

  “Yes, yes. Of course.” He snapped his fingers. Firebug and Steele crumpled to the floor. When Jet made to run to them to make sure they were all right, Hypnotic said, “They’re fine. Sleeping it off. Side effect,” he said with a shrug. “Now then. Your turn.”

  Jet took a deep breath. This, she told
herself, is profoundly stupid. But Taser was on his way, and more than that, Jet had this feeling that this man, Doctor Hypnotic, wouldn’t hurt her. Not while she was of interest to him, at any rate.

  She wondered, as she pushed back her cowl, if she were getting as arrogant as a Lighter.

  “Golden hair,” he said, smiling warmly. “Just like your mother’s. Why do you keep it hidden?”

  Surprised by the question, she replied, “Long hair isn’t suitable for battle conditions.”

  “But a cape is?” Hypnotic snorted. “Braid it, then,” he said, staring at her pinned-up hair. “So beautiful. You shouldn’t keep it hidden away.”

  “I’ll take it up with Branding,” she said dryly.

  “Your goggles,” he said. “Please take them off, as you said you would.”

  Crap. Jet pushed her optiframes up until they rested on her brow.

  He was staring at her, his face rapt. “Just like her,” he breathed. “Except the eyes. You have your father’s eyes.” He reached over to her, as if he meant to stroke her cheek.

  She stepped out of reach. This was bordering on creepy.

  He murmured, “So tiny. Just like Holly.”

  Holly. That was her mother’s name. Her just-between-Angelica-and-Blackout name.

  “I’m Hal.”

  Just as she thought this confrontation couldn’t get any odder, something else happened. She rolled with it. “Hi, Hal. I’m Joan.”

  “Joan,” he said agreeably. “You lost your mother. But tell me, did you ever lose your true love?”

  Thoughts of Samson flitted through her mind—his easy laugh, his strong, gentle hands. Jet swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

  Doctor Hypnotic paused, studying her. “Yes, you did, didn’t you? How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “I was twenty-two,” he said sadly. “I lost her to someone else. I lost her to a Shadow.”

  “My love died,” Jet said, sullen and suddenly angry. “He died on a training mission. He was fifteen years old, and he got killed by an Everyman.”

  “So much death,” Doctor Hypnotic said, his voice full of regret. “And so young. I can give you a better world, Joan.”

  She let out a small laugh. “I appreciate the offer.” More than she cared to admit. “But I’m duty-bound to this world.” Before she could think better of it, she said, “You can be too. You can help make a difference.”

  Doctor Hypnotic smiled. “Why, Joan, what a marvelous idea. I’ll have to think about that. Do you know how hypnosis works?”

  Right. That was her cue. “Thank you for being a man of honor, Hal,” she said quickly, taking another step toward her unconscious friends. “I’ll just get out of your hair now …”

  “It’s simple, really. You need to distract the conscious mind so that it doesn’t fight you when you whisper to the unconscious mind. Light works well as a distraction. But it’s not necessary, depending on the mind I encounter.” He grinned. “You’re a Shadow power, Joan. You’re practically conditioned to receive my suggestions. Just like your father was, during the so-called Siege of Manhattan.”

  “How nice,” Jet said, taking another step.

  “I’ve already hypnotized you, Joan. Don’t you see? I’ve taken away the light.”

  “Of course you have,” she said, and then she turned to her friends …

  … but that was when the lights went out.

  No! She reached for her optiframes to banish the Darkness, but it was gone. Oh Light, no!

  yes yes little girl yes

  She spun around, desperate to escape before the voices took over. But there was nowhere for her to go; the Shadow was all around her.

  The Shadow was in her.

  little Joan little Jet little lamb lost little lamb

  She doubled over, screaming, clutching her head, pulling her hair. No, not like this!

  like this you like this you like us little Joan don’t fight

  Her screaming faded to a whimper, and she wrapped her arms over her head, bowing in her despair. Please, Light, not like this.

  don’t fight don’t fight don’t

  She didn’t want to give in, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight.

  “Joan.”

  The voice was cool, calm, the epitome of reason in the face of madness.

  “Joan, I can make the voices go away.”

  Light, please.

  “Look at the light, Joan. Look at the Light and don’t fight me.”

  don’t fight

  “Look at the Light.”

  Something bright, bright enough that she saw it through her squeezed eyelids. Desperate to believe, she opened her eyes.

  The Light washed over her, and the Shadow cowered, retreated. The Light beckoned, easing her terror, soothing away her fear. Her body slowly relaxed.

  “Joan. Look to your left.”

  She did.

  “Do you see it, Joan? Do you see the Shadow?”

  She did. It quivered as the Light noticed it, but though it hissed and spat, the Shadow didn’t attack. It didn’t try to seduce her again, but neither did it flee. It waited patiently for her to lower her guard.

  “Look to your right, Joan. Do you see the door? It’s reinforced tilithium. Nothing can get through it, Joan. Nothing can break it. Do you see it?”

  She did.

  “The door is open now. Do you see the tiny cell it hides?”

  She did.

  “There is nothing in the cell but wall and ceiling and floor. The door is the only way in. The door is the only way out. Do you see?”

  She did.

  “The Light is forcing the Shadow inside the cell.”

  At that, the Shadow bucked and screamed. It fought against the pulsing light, it launched itself at the Light, at Jet; it flowed up and down and scrabbled for purchase. But the Light caught it and redirected it, pushed it toward the cell.

  The Shadow gathered itself, forming the shape of a woman, the shape of Jet herself, and with a delirious screech it launched itself at her.

  Jet rolled with the Shadow, screaming, fighting back with everything she had. She punched at it, shouting her rage and fear, bellowing as she lashed out with brutal kicks. She fought it—and because she wasn’t alone, this time, Jet was winning.

  “Joan! The cell, Joan!”

  With a defiant cry, she grabbed the Jet-Shadow and spun, throwing it toward the cell. The Light reached out and grabbed the Shadow’s ankle and dragged it into the tiny room. The Shadow scrabbled and clawed, squealing and shrieking, but it didn’t matter—the Light forced the Shadow into the prison cell. The door slammed shut with the finality of a coffin lid sliding home, sealing in the Light and the Shadow both.

  Jet was swaying, now, shaking with fatigue, exhausted physically and mentally and emotionally. Tears of relief streamed down her face.

  “The Shadow can’t hurt you anymore,” Doctor Hypnotic said. “By the way, I’m really sorry about this.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and spun her to the left … and then a bolt of electricity slammed into Jet.

  Too stunned to scream, her limbs flailed and jittered. She didn’t even register the pain.

  She thought she heard Taser say, “Whoops.”

  When the Darkness reached for Jet, for the first time since she was a teenager, she didn’t worry about the Shadow voices reaching for her. With a smile, she passed out cold.

  CHAPTER 17

  IRIDIUM

  I tried for days to make Subject 1102 replicate the effect, but in the end I failed. An autopsy will probably tell me more.

  —Matthew Icarus, diary entry dated October 30, 1982

  A figure lay on the ground outside the building, black and black on the pitted asphalt. Iridium was off the bike before Boxer had come close to stopping, sprinting for the smaller body on the ground.

  If I hadn’t stopped if I hadn’t waited if I’d stayed with her …

  “If I’d been here …”

  “You’d be out for the
count too.”

  Iridium snapped her head up from Jet, who was breathing, though not often or deeply. “You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face, Taser.”

  The mercenary chuckled behind his mask. “Not exactly.”

  Iridium rose, strobes blossoming all around her like a garden of poison flowers. “Give me a reason.”

  “To kiss me or kill me?”

  “Hey,” Boxer said, putting his hand on Iridium’s shoulder as she started for the big man. “Your gal needs a hospital, stat. Her pulse is tachy and she’s burned.”

  “Hypnotic.” Taser scrubbed a hand across his goggles. “I got a call, and I saw Jet, then she wasn’t Jet, she was … well. She was Doctor Hypnotic. I shocked her. I did it.”

  Only the befuddled pain in his tone kept Iridium from burning him to cinder on the spot. “There were two more. Firebug and Steele.”

  Taser waved his hand vaguely at the building. “He let us go. Why would he do that … ?”

  Iridium snapped her fingers. “Boxer, help Jet.” She started for the building. Taser grabbed her arm, Kevlar glove scratchy against her skin.

  “No! What about me?”

  Iridium cocked an eyebrow. “You? Roast in your own power, for all I care.” She yanked herself free and ran into the building.

  Steele and Firebug stood near a decrepit security desk. Steele looked worse for wear, leaning against the desk, holding her head. Firebug stood under her own power, but tear tracks made their way down her sweaty, grimy face.

  “Harriet,” she said. “Harrie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t get here in time …”

  “Forget it, Kai.” Steele waved her away. “Nobody could have done anything against that maniac.”

  “He just … let us go.” Firebug let out a shuddering breath. “Something’s not right.”

  “Great. We’re all members of the Something’s Not Right Club,” Iridium said. “Let’s get you two out of here before old Googly-Eyes changes his mind.”

  Firebug gasped. “Iridium?”

  Next to her, Steele said quietly, “We don’t want any trouble with you.”

  “And I don’t want to be babysitting heroes.” She met Steele’s glare for a moment, remembering that she favored her left in a hand-to-hand fight. She could beat Steele again if the bigger woman became a problem.