Shades of Gray

by Jackie Kessler; Caitlin Kittredge

  That last bothered Jet immensely. She remembered the sound of Bruce’s laughter, the feeling of his hands on her body. She gritted her teeth. Her hormones were going to be the death of her.

  “Slow down,” Meteorite said, holding up her hands in surrender. “The others are out, doing what they can. You’re naked because I had to get your outfit off you before I could see the extent of your injuries.”

  Injuries? She’d been hurt?

  Before Jet could ask about that, Meteorite said, “What do you remember?”

  Jet frowned, thinking. “I’d gone after Firebug and Steele, then I confronted Hypnotic …” She blanked. She had the impression of talking to him, of his touching her face, his eyes shining in wonder. “He told me his name is Hal.”

  “Harold Gibbons, code name Doctor Hypnotic. What happened when you were in there?”

  “I’m not sure. We talked, I know that much. But …” Her frown deepened. Part of her was insisting that Hypnotic had helped her with … something … but it was like chasing smoke. “I can’t remember.”

  “That’s not a surprise,” Meteorite said slowly. “All things considered, you and the others got off lucky.”

  Jet’s eyes widened. “The others. Steele, Firebug. And Taser, I’d called him in for assistance. Are they all right?”

  “Kai’s a little worse for the wear, but getting back into the thick of things has done wonders for her. And you know Harriet,” Meteorite said with a chuckle. “Steele’s unbendable.”

  “And Bruce?” Jet asked softly.

  “Taser, Iridium, and Boxer got you and the others out. They brought you here, and I’ve been checking on you while you recuperated.”

  Iridium had shown up after all—and with backup? Jet’s mind whirled as she tore at her memories, trying to remember what had happened when she’d gone into Hypnotic’s lair. “I was hurt?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hypnotic?”

  “Actually, Bruce.” Meteorite smirked, then shrugged as if to say What Did You Expect? “He’d been aiming for Hypnotic, but got you instead.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Bruce zapped me?”

  “Yeah. But you weren’t burned, which was good, and your eyes were clear, which was even better. If you were under Hypnotic’s influence, they’d have been milky white.” Meteorite motioned to one of her assorted computers. “I’ve been reading up on Hypnotic. And based on everything I’ve been reading, we’re in a hoverload of trouble.”

  “Okay.” Bruce had almost electrocuted her. Light. Clutching her blanket, Jet said, “Download everything you’ve found about Hypnotic to my wristlet and tell me where I’m needed.” She spun on her heel to head back to the so-called guest room. “And where’s my skinsuit?”

  “Where you’re needed is the shower.”

  Jet paused, then looked over her shoulder at Meteorite. “Excuse me?”

  “Joan,” the other woman said gently. “You’d been fighting for two days without a break, then you were down for the count for two more days. Not to put too fine a point on it, you reek. And a shower will get you more focused for what you need to do.”

  “I was unconscious for two days?” Jet thought she sounded fairly calm, all things considered.

  “Yeah.” Meteorite sighed. “Courtesy of Iridium. She doped you so you’d finally get some sleep.”

  “Iridium drugged me?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t so calm. Maybe she’d actually shouted that last part.

  “Get over it, babe. Go on and shower.”

  “I don’t have time to shower,” Jet growled. She was going to kill Bruce and Callie. Slowly. And very painfully. “From what I see, everything’s hit the roof.”

  “Joan Greene, you turn your ass around and look at me.”

  Clenching her teeth, Jet turned.

  Meteorite had crossed her arms beneath her ample bosom, and there were thunderstorms in her eyes. “Yes, the shit has hit the fan, even with the overall violence lessening. Hypnotic’s influence is spreading in a growing radius around his lair in Looptown.” Jet must have looked puzzled, because Meteorite explained, “People, both norms and extrahumans, are just staring off into space. Falling under his spell, just like when he first went rabid.”

  Jet recalled studying the Siege of Manhattan during Fourth Year tactics training at the Academy. About twenty years ago, Hypnotic had parted ways with the Squadron—violently—and had controlled a small area in New York City. It had taken the Squadron five days to push through his henchmen, then confront Doctor Hypnotic directly. The casualty rate had been horrific. “We can’t let that happen again,” Jet said quietly.

  “But it’s already started. The hospitals are overloaded with cases of what the media’s calling ‘zombie plague.’ Total number’s hard to come by, but 212 cases have been confirmed.”

  Oh Light.

  Duty first, Jet thought bleakly. All those people, lost in their own minds … waiting for Hypnotic to command them. She had to stop Hal, convince him that what he was doing was wrong.

  “So far, none of the affected civilians, or extrahumans,” Meteorite emphasized, “have done anything other than go blank.”

  Jet frowned. “He got some of the rabids?”

  “From what I’ve been picking up, yeah. Thirteen of the zombies were ID’d as extrahuman.” Meteorite listed them all, ending with a name Jet knew all too well from her Academy years: Dawnlighter. “Maybe we should recruit him,” Meteorite said with a tight laugh. “He’s doing some of our work for us.”

  “You can help make a difference,” she says to Hal.

  “Why, Joan,” he replies, “what a marvelous idea. I’ll have to think about that.”

  Jet cursed.

  “And that wacky media has also just announced to everyone and their sister that rumor has it that Hypnotic has broken out of Blackbird, so now people are more scared than they were before.” Meteorite snorted. “Which is saying something.”

  “This is all the more reason I have to go after him now, before his influence spreads.”

  “Will you shut it? I’m not done.” Meteorite glared at her. “The brass hasn’t pinpointed Hypnotic’s lair yet. Derek and I are guessing Hypnotic’s cloaked it somehow. If not for Kai’s distress call two days ago, we wouldn’t have found him, either.” Meteorite frowned. “Just as well. The National Guard would probably bomb him to hell and back rather than go against him directly.”

  “Not with all the innocents caught in the crossfire, they wouldn’t.”

  “Of course they would. Acceptable losses, and all that.”

  “So I have to go after him,” Jet said impatiently. “We can’t give this to the police. It’s too dangerous for them.”

  Meteorite shouted, “Scorch it, don’t you see? He’s too fucking strong.”

  Her words hung in the air between them.

  Jet knew that Meteorite was right. Hal was much too strong. But what other option was there?

  “Hypnotic’s just the frosting on the shit cake.” Meteorite ticked off points on her fingers as she said, “We still have groups of former Squadron soldiers venting throughout New Chicago, not to mention the rest of the Americas. There are more citizen protests like what’s happening at City Hall, and even more zealous speeches from Everyman. Citywide curfew is in effect. Just to make it more fun, there are rumors of a mass breakout from Blackbird.”

  Jet felt dizzy. “Please tell me that really is just a rumor.”

  “We don’t know,” Meteorite said with a heavy sigh. “We can’t get a solid answer from Blackbird thanks to the guards striking, let alone the police. And from the little I’ve picked up, Lee is poised to label all extrahumans terrorists, so we’re not getting a lot of love from any of the brass.”

  Terrorists. Light.

  “To top it off, we still don’t have a beat on the missing Academy students or staff.”

  A lump formed in Jet’s throat, and she swallowed thickly. The students had to be safe somewhere. Ops at the Academy might have been washed-up heroes
, but most of them had still held on to their extrahuman abilities. What was more, they hadn’t worn the earpieces that had brainwashed the Squadron into being Corp yes men. They had to have led the kids to safety.

  “At least it’s not all doom and gloom,” Meteorite said lightly. “Your best buddy’s been working with us on and off these past two days. She’s been a big help. So’s Taser.”

  Bruce and Callie, hand in hand. How fitting. “Iri’s really one of the good guys?”

  “For now. You know Iridium. With her, it’s always about her own interests first.”

  “Indeed.” She remembered Iri telling her to drop her off in Wreck City, instead of going with her to confront Hypnotic. “Taser as well.”

  Meteorite shook her head ruefully. “Don’t be too hard on him just because he fried your circuits by accident. We’re sort of screwed here, Jetster. Don’t go looking gift horses in the mouth.”

  “I don’t plan on doing anything with Taser’s mouth,” Jet replied, her voice clipped. Her stomach ruined her indignation as it let out a woeful grumble.

  “I’m sure Taser’s mouth is very disappointed. I’ll scare up some food for you. While you shower,” Meteorite added pointedly.

  Jet glared at her. “Sheila …”

  “Don’t you ‘Sheila’ me, Joan Greene. Get your ass into that shower.” Meteorite smiled sweetly. “And then I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden your skinsuit. Which, by the way, is now clean. Unlike you.”

  Jet stared at the Ops controller long and hard. Finally, she said, “You’re incorrigible.”

  “And allergic to dirt. Go get clean.” The smile melted off Meteorite’s face. “Because Jehovah knows, you’ll be getting dirty again.”

  CHAPTER 28

  IRIDIUM

  These parents have no conception of what their children could become. This isn’t merely science … this is evolution.

  —Matthew Icarus, undated research notes

  Why, Iridium wondered, did packs of villains always travel in threes? A love of prime numbers? Or simply to annoy her? Iridium bet on the latter.

  These three—Feedback, Blackwasp, and Duster—had to be the sorriest bunch of superpowered punks New Chicago had ever seen. All young, all barely out of the Academy, with probably three months of field training among them and a love of clashing colors on their skinsuits.

  Still, they’d managed to take out an armored transport hover and tie up traffic for kilometers in both directions.

  Iridium threw herself behind one of the hover’s tilithium doors as Feedback’s sonic scream ricocheted off the buildings all around. Glass rained down, and Feedback raised his hands like he was conducting opera.

  Until ten thousand volts to the back of his neck laid him out flat. Taser shook his head, batting at his ears. “Damn it, that stings.”

  “Your left!” Iridium said sharply, as a dirt crawler controlled by Duster reared out of the pavement. Taser dove left, and the crawler took out the front window of a 3-D rental shop.

  That left just Blackwasp unaccounted for. Iridium spun in time to duck a slash from the toxic stingers in his forearms.

  “There you are, kiddo,” she said. “My memory might be going, but haven’t I kicked your ass once before?”

  “That was then,” Blackwasp panted. “This is now.”

  “Oh, well.” Iridium called a strobe. “Two for two is better than one.” She threw the strobe into Blackwasp’s buggy face, and it left sunburn across his nose and cheeks.

  He didn’t flinch, even when his bug-eyed goggles steamed from the heat.

  “Polarized glass.” He giggled. “Old school. I’m smarter this time.”

  “But sadly, not prettier.” Iridium let her power die down and curled her fists. Blackwasp wasn’t that big, and all he had going were the stingers.

  “Sweep the leg, Iri!” Taser called from where he had Duster down on his stomach, strapped into stun-cuffs.

  “Get bent,” she shouted back.

  Blackwasp used her moment of distraction to strike, and one of the stingers scraped across her cheek—not deep enough to release its venom, but plenty deep enough to hurt.

  “Christo,” Iridium hissed. She caught Blackwasp’s arm on the backswing, twisted, and snapped the stinger off.

  Blackwasp howled as bluish ichor dribbled from his wound. “You bitch.”

  Iridium kicked him in the back of the knee and took him to ground in a police hold. “And don’t you forget it.”

  She held a hand out to Taser. “Cuffs.”

  “So hot when you say it like that.” Taser dropped the stun-cuffs into her palm.

  “Put a sock in it, Bruce.” Working with Taser was almost as bad as taking down junior supervillains. If he hadn’t been so damn competent, she probably would have strobed him by now.

  Iridium cuffed Blackwasp, who’d reduced himself to snuffling invective against her looks, her parentage, and her fighting skills. She looked up at the merc. “If Bruce is even your name.”

  “Yup,” he said. “Bruce Hunter. I never lied to you, Callie. I just omitted.”

  Iridium hauled Blackwasp to his feet. “You don’t get to use that name.”

  Bruce’s face crinkled under his mask. “Who does?”

  “People I trust.”

  A cop hover pulled up, Oz’s unmarked just behind it. The patrolmen came over with their hands on their shock pistols, and Iridium stepped back, raising her hands. “All yours, Officers.”

  Oz touched the lead patrolman on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Dennehy. Iridium here isn’t like the others.”

  Dennehy took in the villains and Iridium, and the mess they’d made of Lower Wabash. “Thanks, I guess.” He handed Feedback off to his partner and took Blackwasp and Duster himself.

  “You crippled me!” Blackwasp shouted at Iridium. “I’m gonna sue!”

  “Watch your head,” Dennehy said, and banged Blackwasp face-first into the roof of his hover cruiser.

  Iridium smiled at Oz. “I like that guy.”

  “Bright future, that kid,” Oz agreed. “Probably be the commissioner in five years, the way things are going.”

  Citizens had started to creep back outside, cleaning up glass and brick, and picking up overturned possessions. A bum reclaimed his shopping cart and gave Iridium a toothless grin. The owner of the rental store came over and held out her hand. “You did a good thing,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Iridium looked at the woman’s extended appendage, nonplussed, but Taser grabbed it and pumped it. “Just doing our job, ma’am.”

  Even the dealer on the corner—one of the Russians, judging by his tattoos—tipped Iridium a salute before he skulked away from Oz and his gold detective’s badge.

  “I’ve been held up three times this year,” the woman said to Iridium and Taser. “This is the first time I’ve seen uniformed cops in Wreck City in … well … years.”

  “New Chicago PD is making some changes, ma’am,” Oz said. “Our influence is no longer mitigated by … outside parties.”

  “You show up next time I trip the silent alarm because some punk has a plasgun in my face, I might believe that,” the woman huffed, then stomped back into her shop.

  Iridium chuckled. “Not your biggest fan, Oz.”

  “And the NCPD isn’t yours, Iridium, but here in Wreck City, we take help where we can get it.” He patted her shoulder. “Fight the good fight, kid.”

  Taser watched Oz leave and cracked his knuckles. “As far as first dates go, this was pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”

  She glared at him. “How long will it take for you to realize those lines don’t work on me?”

  “The lady doth protest too much.”

  Iridium ignored him, electing instead to put a comlink in her ear. After they’d foiled the bank robbery two days ago, Steele had insisted she take an earpiece and be given an Ops channel. Just in case.

  So far, Iridium had answered every time they’d called. She didn’t really want to go home, and Boxer se
emed content to stay at Wrigley Field with Hornblower, so … why not keep her grid from devolving into an urban slice of hell?

  “What does work?” Taser said.

  Iridium frowned at him, considering what worked—and if she should tell him. Jet had clearly marked her territory when he was her Runner.

  But Jet wasn’t here.

  Finally, she said, “Try taking off your mask, for starters. And I don’t mean that stocking over your face.” She motioned to him. “I mean this. Taser. You haven’t shown me one ounce of who you really are.”

  “You’re a hard nut to crack, doll.”

  “You want easy, go for Jet. Oh wait. You already did.”

  Taser flinched, and Iridium was gratified to see that bringing up her former friend seemed to shut the merc up. He was good in a fight, but he was obnoxious, arrogant, and a champion-caliber liar. The sort of person Lester would have strobed without a thought.

  She wasn’t jealous that Bruce had chosen Joan to seduce instead of her. It meant she was smart and Jet was gullible. That was all.

  Feeling inexplicable tension grow in her shoulders and neck, she turned away from him and tapped the Ops frequency. “Ops, Iridium.”

  “Go,” Meteorite snapped. The washed-up hero still carried her grudge, which Iridium had to admire her for. The rest of the good-guy brigade had practically thrown her a parade. Even Hornblower, once he’d seen that Iridium was sticking around, had stopped looking like he wanted to twist her head off.

  “Trouble’s over in Wreck City. Cops took the Dork Trio to lockup. Taser and I are headed back.”

  “Confirmed,” Meteorite said. “I’ll tell Boxer and—”

  An enormous crash, then a cascade of crumbling brick and rebar cut off Meteorite’s next words.

  Iridium spun, choking on dust as the storefront at the street’s end shuddered and collapsed.

  From the wreckage, a huge shadow emerged into the dust.

  “What is that?” Taser shouted. “Bomb?”

  “No …” Iridium could barely breathe, and she snatched a hazomask from her belt and slapped it over her nose and mouth. Her watering, stinging eyes she was just going to have to deal with. Maybe she should consider goggles, like Taser or Jet. “No, not a bomb.” Lester’s teaching, Lester’s voice feeding her information on urban bombing. “Too little debris.”