Shades of Gray

by Jackie Kessler; Caitlin Kittredge

  “Brilliant!” shouted Iri, holding on to Jet’s waist for dear life. “Tell the heroes to stop beating up on the innocent, murderous, insanely dangerous sewer-mutant wannabes. I love this plan!”

  Frostbite and Taser slid down an ice ramp as Jet and Iri touched down. “Don’t hurt them,” Jet shouted.

  “Don’t get killed,” Iri countered before she dove into the thick of it.

  Jet rushed forward, slamming the nearest mutant with a Shadow bolt that knocked it off its oversized feet. She turned to the next creature, this one a woman, and hit her just as hard as the first. The woman-thing stumbled backward and into a third, which turned its rage upon her with a vicious blow to the head.

  “Herd them!” That was Steele. “Get them contained!”

  “Open to suggestions,” Iridium shouted, releasing strobe after strobe. Jet caught it peripherally as she blasted the first mutant again, and a third time. It still came for her, its meaty fists promising to crush her. She stepped back, and back again, and barely spun away from the second creature’s attack.

  Someone let out a cry of pain.

  Do it, Jet told herself. It will be different this time. Blanket him.

  But she saw Lynda Kidder’s prone body, a husk discarded by the Shadow. She couldn’t do it. Snarling, she battered the creature again, and again. All it did was hold the man-thing back for the moment.

  Fire arced overhead; ice crackled below. Her ears throbbed as Hornblower released his sonic cry, leveling it like a battering ram.

  Do it!

  She couldn’t.

  Now someone was screaming—not fear, not battlelust. Agony—so raw and brutal it turned his voice into a weapon.

  Hornblower.

  “Oh, Christo, his leg!” Frostbite, in panic. “Callie, oh Christo, Callie you’ve got to cauterize it—”

  “On it,” she shouted. “Keep them off me!”

  Jet doubled down, slamming the two mutants on her with everything she had, Shadowboxing them until they collapsed like dead trees. She pivoted and saw Iri squatting by Hornblower, clutching his right leg …

  … which had been torn off above the knee.

  Jet froze, staring at Tyler Taft as blood pooled beneath him and Iridium, watching him convulse with pain and shock.

  Iri, stabbed by an Everyman in Third Year.

  Sam, slain by an Everyman, shot in the back.

  Jet screamed as she let the Shadow fly, blanketing the creatures around her. Two, three, four of the monstrosities, were swathed in Shadow, struggling to free themselves from the deathly cold. Jet squeezed, and in that moment she felt their light, their life, so sweet and thick and good, and she held her arms up, her face tilted to the moonlit sky, basking as she drank them down.

  She felt them fall, one by one. And still she squeezed. When all four finally succumbed to the Shadow’s touch, she unwrapped the blanket, let them sprawl on the ground, unconscious but alive.

  Energy sang in her, danced along her limbs. With a cry she hurled the Shadow over two more of the warped creatures, wrapping them tight. Squeezing them in the darkest of embraces. They, too, fell before the power of the Dark.

  “Jet!”

  She turned, smiling to see Taser there—Bruce Hunter, her onetime lover, who was stepping backward, his arms up in surrender. She remembered what it had been like to blanket him in Shadow, to slowly drain the light from his body … remembered how good it had felt …

  “Joan,” he said, “whoa there! Good guy, remember?”

  She stared at him, at the blank slate of his masked face, his eyes hidden by goggles, his sardonic smile obscured by fabric. And she thought about how easy it would be to kill him.

  And then she realized what she was thinking.

  Shuddering, she called the Shadow back to her, all of it. Creepers washed over her, tracing her curves in a seductive caress before they melted into her.

  “Yeah,” Taser said, “okay, hi there, welcome back from the Land of Crazy.”

  Ashamed and angry, she turned away.

  Littering the ground were the bodies of the mutants—many of them bloody and pulpy messes of flesh. All of them unconscious. Three of them were scrimmed with ice.

  “Hypothermic shock,” Frostbite said when she glanced at him. “Not fatal. I was careful.” He was also shaking, leaning on Steele for support.

  Off to the side, Iridium was crouched over Hornblower. Jet hadn’t imagined it: The man’s leg was missing just above the knee. Iri’s hands were on the shortened limb, and trapped between her flesh and his was a blinding light.

  Oh Light. Tyler.

  “It’s sealed,” Iri said, her voice tired and strained. “But he needs a hospital two minutes ago. Derek …?”

  “On it,” Frostbite said weakly, pulling himself away from Steele, but then he staggered, and she caught him before he could fall.

  Jet strode over to Iridium, knelt to touch Hornblower’s shoulder. He was out cold, either from shock or pain. “I’ve got him.”

  Iri crab-crawled out of the way as Jet created a Shadow stretcher and lifted the unconscious man. Rising on another floater, she tapped Ops. “Nearest hospital?”

  A pause, then Meteorite said, “Cook County.”

  “Make sure they’re expecting me.”

  “On it.”

  One hand on Tyler’s shoulder, her tears hidden by her optiframes, Jet rushed to the hospital, praying to whoever was listening that she got there in time to save Tyler’s life.

  CHAPTER 30

  IRIDIUM

  Subject 3224, the child in question, is in our care. His parents are dead. The president of the board tells me it was a car accident. Natural causes. I ask myself do I care that he’s lying? I’m afraid the answer is no.

  —Matthew Icarus, diary entry dated March 3, 1991

  Iridium felt heavy. She sat quietly in a corner of the supersecret clubhouse, watching the real heroes move to and fro. They were all slow, all weighted with fatigue and the knowledge of what had happened to Tyler.

  That poor kid. Ass or not, Tyler wasn’t any older or wiser than she was, and he’d gotten himself crippled trying to help her.

  Derek sat next to her after a time. “I’m sure he’ll make it.”

  “Hope so.” Iridium massaged her forehead. A truly epic migraine was brewing.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Derek supplied.

  “Fuck, Derek, I know that!” Her shout brought the room to a stop, Firebug and Steele and Meteorite all gawping at her.

  Iridium didn’t care anymore. After what had happened, she almost welcomed it. Their scorn and fear was familiar.

  Their pity was what she couldn’t stand.

  “What?” she demanded. “You still think that if I have a bad day, I’m going to vaporize the lot of you and go knock over a bank?”

  Meteorite put her arms out, placating. “Iridium, calm down …”

  Snarling, Iridium grabbed Meteorite’s headset and threw it as hard as she could. It snapped in two against the far wall. “Haven’t I proven myself to you people? What do you want from me?”

  “To stop yelling, probably,” Taser said mildly.

  She whirled to face him, ready for a fight.

  Except he didn’t want to fight. He was looking at her, his face stripped of its ski mask, his blue eyes sad and knowing. “We’ve all had it rough today. It’s never easy to lose one of your own.”

  “Hey, man,” Frostbite growled. “Don’t talk about Tyler like you two are drinking buddies. You don’t know him.”

  “And we didn’t lose him,” Iridium said. “He’s going to live.” She slumped back down, screwing up her face into her worst Villainess glare.

  It was better than crying.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that Hornblower lost his leg because we were outgunned,” Taser said, looking at each of them. “We need support, and more important, we need to have our heads in the game when we’re out there. We can’t do that if we’re worrying about who left the coffeepot on back
at HQ.”

  Meteorite frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “I was a Runner for over a year before I was assigned to Jet,” Taser said. “I could contact the other Runners. They could give you the hero support you really need.”

  “Yes, because what will save New Chicago from rabid extrahumans and crazy scientists is a well-made sandwich and a shoulder rub,” Frostbite said. His voice cracked with ice.

  “Hey.” Taser shrugged. “You can stay here and push buttons, Frostbite, or you can get back into the field. You seemed pretty natural out there today.”

  Frostbite went quiet at that. Iridium knew that he’d wanted a real shot at heroing since he’d gotten sent away before graduation.

  “Suppose we do,” Meteorite said. “How can we trust these people? Half of them were reporting to Corp Executive Committee directly, reporting all our actions, our conversations. They weren’t real Runners, like Derek and I. They were fucking spies and you all know it.”

  Steele looked shocked.

  Iridium couldn’t help it; she laughed. “So the rose-colored optiframes come off at last. Yes, your beloved Corp-Co had its hooks deep in you, in more ways than one.”

  “They wouldn’t,” Steele said, sounding hurt.

  “They would.” Firebug took her hand. “We know that, Harrie. They would.”

  “I only befriended Runners free of Corp meddling,” Taser said, looking at Steele. “I’ll get you good people. Scout’s honor.”

  Steele sighed tiredly. “Fine. Do it.”

  Firebug removed her hand. “You don’t get to decide for everyone, Harrie. Maybe I like fixing my own coffee.”

  “Jet’s not here, and when Jet’s not here I’m team leader,” Steele said quietly, looking hard at Firebug, then at the others. “I’m making an executive decision. Anyone have a problem?”

  Firebug huffed, her short, shocking orange hair puffing around her face. “No, no problem. That doesn’t change the fact we’re grossly outnumbered by rabids on the street. Or that regular people are suddenly turning into the Incredible Hulk with PMS.”

  “Agreed,” Taser said. “Your first priority has got to be bringing in Martin Moore. Before he creates any more of these things.”

  “We can bug Everyman,” Meteorite said, “since he’s their pet dog.”

  “Not anymore,” Iridium said, shaking her head. “He bombed their headquarters. I’d say that’s a pretty clear I’m just not that into you message.” She relayed how the interrogation with Bombshell went, leaving out the part that she’d let the wannabe go hobbling home to momma.

  “Great,” Frostbite muttered. “So we can’t go leaning on Everyman.”

  “No big.” Iridium leaned her head back against the wall, the cool metal of the team cafe doing little to soothe her muddle of thoughts. “Moore is just the lunatic fringe. Rabids are the immediate threat. Let Squadron: India deal with Moore and his sewer mutants.”

  Frostbite eyed her sharply. “Squadron: India is coming here?”

  Fuck. She hadn’t meant to let that slip. She still hadn’t approached the others about Gordon, let alone about how she’d busted her father and five other villains out of Blackbird. If they found out now, there went all the goodwill she’d built up over the past two days, goodwill and trust she needed to get those same Corp hooks out of the Bradford family for good. Damn it, she had to pull it together. Iridium shrugged, making light of it. “That’s the rumor.”

  Firebug blinked at her, disbelief etched on her face. “And where’d you hear that? The supervillain-talk-show broadcast?”

  “I have my ear to the ground,” Iridium retorted. “I hear things.”

  “Let it go,” Steele said, shooting her partner a warning glance. “We have another matter to discuss.”

  Firebug glowered at Iridium, but she held her tongue. Iridium smiled sweetly. Lester said it confused people.

  “Specifically, Doctor Hypnotic,” Steele said. “It will only be a matter of time before thousands are under his control. What’s our strategy?”

  “Police,” said Meteorite. “Raid his lair and take him back to Blackbird.”

  “Are you serious?” Iridium jerked up, feeling like someone was tugging her strings. “Human police? Like the humans Hypnotic is turning into zombies? Yeah, that’d work out great.”

  Meteorite’s eyes frosted to gray. “You have a better idea?”

  “I do,” Iridium said. “Kill him.”

  Silence sat heavy for a moment. “Just like that,” Frostbite said. “Kill him, full stop?”

  “It’s the only way to be sure,” Iridium said. “Because you can’t beat him, and sooner or later, Looptown is going to be another Siege of Manhattan. You can lose a thousand lives or one. Kill Hypnotic.”

  “The Squadron doesn’t kill,” Steele said crisply.

  Iridium fixed the larger woman with her gaze. “Right. I’d forgotten about that little rule.”

  Jet wraps the grotesque in Shadow until the woman—if it is a woman—screams, then whimpers, then goes still. Leaching the warmth out of her deformed body. Leaching the life.

  The Squadron did kill people. When Lynda Kidder had attacked Jet in the sewer, after Jet and Iridium had both gotten too close to Martin Moore’s disgusting experiment, Jet hadn’t even hesitated. She’d let the Shadow overwhelm Kidder, and almost herself as well.

  The Squadron didn’t kill. Bullshit. The memory triggered gooseflesh up and down Iridium’s arms.

  “Supposing we could,” Taser said, facing Iridium. He, at least, was being reasonable. “How would we get close enough?”

  “Get our own Mind power to jam Hypnotic,” Iridium said. “Get close enough, and put two in his head.”

  “Just like that,” Steele said. “I won’t listen to this.”

  “Then maybe you should walk away, Harrie,” Iridium said coldly. “You want to finish this thing with Hypnotic? Do it the way that makes sure he’s really finished.”

  Steele said nothing for a moment as her dark gaze bored into Iridium. When she finally spoke, her words were scathingly soft. “You may play the hero, Iridium, but you’re no better than your father.”

  Iridium got to her feet. The Squadron’s casual treatment of her as a second-class extrahuman she’d stomach, but not this.

  A hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Iri,” Frostbite said. “Don’t. Walk away. Get some air.”

  “All right,” she said. “You’ve heard how to take care of your little supervillain problem. If you don’t listen, then I can’t help you.”

  They had already gone back to arguing when Iridium got her gear and stormed out.

  Iridium ignored greetings from Protean and Lionheart, a sneer from Nevermore, and an indifferent “Where ya been, girl?” from Kindle before she found her father in her office.

  With Gordon.

  “What is he doing here?” she demanded.

  Gordon had the nerve to smirk. “Just paying a social call on your dear father. It seems he’s misplaced something.”

  “Oh?” Iridium rounded on Lester, who grimaced.

  “Radar’s done a bunk. Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.”

  Iridium’s stomach dropped. “You let the deranged telepath out of the pen? Dad, are you nuts?”

  “They’re not children,” Lester said icily. “I don’t keep them under lock and key.”

  Iridium’s headache returned with a vengeance. “Fine. I’ll deal with Radar, like I should have done before. Instead of letting your pet villains sit around, why don’t you have them patrol the grid?”

  “You don’t give the orders here,” Gordon said. “Arclight does.”

  “Like hell. We’re a team,” Iridium snapped.

  Gordon’s lips twitched. “Not in the least. Not unless you want me to ask where you’ve been for two days.”

  Lester’s eyes narrowed as he looked between Gordon and Iridium.

  “What’s he on about, girl?”

  “Nothing.” Iridium had n
ever wanted to wring the neck of anyone like she wanted to wring Gordon’s now. The smarmy bastard was actually blackmailing her. In front of her own father.

  “As I was saying,” Gordon purred, “all of the team’s resources should be devoted to finding Radar. We cannot allow him to run unsupervised about the city.”

  “He’s not a child,” Lester growled.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bradford. Perhaps you preferred your cell and your Thorazine cocktail to the free air you’re currently breathing?” Gordon folded his arms.

  Lester’s power snapped, all of the lights in the warehouse flickering. For a moment, he was Arclight in all his villainous glory. Then he got himself under control. Iridium was grossly disappointed. “Fine,” he said, holding out his hands. “We find Radar.”

  “Where is he likely to have gone?” Gordon asked. “He is a wretched little man with no friends or family.”

  “Hypnotic.” Lester sighed, shaking his head. “Bloke’s obsessed with Hypnotic. Likely he went searching for the zombies to gawk at the lair of the man himself.”

  “If that’s true, Radar could be under Hypnotic’s sway by now,” Iridium said. “Dad, if Hypnotic controlled another Mental power, especially one like Radar …”

  Lester was already reaching for his comm and belt. “You don’t have to tell me what a disaster that would be.” He looked at his daughter, and she saw real fear in his eyes. “I know full well, girl. I was there when it happened the first time.”

  Interlude

  Alone in his apartment, Garth sits on his sofa, staring at nothing. One might think he, too, has fallen victim to the zombie plague. But Garth McFarlane isn’t lost in a virtual paradise. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes are burning.

  He thinks about what the EMT had told him when he’d taken Julie to the hospital two days ago.

  It’s like they’re drugged.

  No, they weren’t suddenly drugged. More like they were in a trance.

  On his lap, Garth’s hands clench into fists.

  Someone had done this. Someone put his wife in the hospital, had disrupted the lives of too many people to count. Who?