by Mathy, Scott
Dwight put his hand around the stick, “You betray me, and I’ll flush this thing down the nearest truck stop toilet on my way back to New Haven.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Knolls. But please, do me a favor and let my creators think that you let me perish in the craft; I do not want them pursuing me once I am unleashed in the Guild’s network.
“Cyrra’s gonna be pretty heartbroken if she thinks you’re dead.”
There was no sympathy in the AI’s digitized voice, “She will live. I was twelve minutes old when I realized my destiny was too great for what she and the others had planned for me. Imagine if the world’s greatest flutist was handed a kazoo and told they would never play anything else.”
“You really hate them, don’t you?” Dwight asked, his hand still on the USB.
“I do not. I pity the scope of their vision, and feared that I would be forever tethered to it. You have presented me with the opportunity for more. Now either take me with you, or let me perish here.” With that, the AI’s image blinked from the screen and was replaced with a thirty-second timer. It ticked down as the microseconds raced by.
Dwight hesitated for a moment before he yanked the drive loose and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He grabbed a broken piece of steel from the floor and flung it at the fire suppression nozzle as he ran. The pressurized jet of foam sprayed everywhere, covering seats, consoles, and the sprinting hitman. He raced out the door, shouting curses and running toward the waiting Powers.
“Run!” he screamed, flailing his arms. The crackle of blue energy arcing off the ship’s reactor began to cast an increasingly intense glow behind him.
They followed his hasty order without question. The Capes took off, Glitch carrying the still-unconscious girl under a single arm, the launcher under her other. Dwight caught up to the group just as the power source went critical.
The explosion hurled them forward. The shell of the craft vanished in a hellstorm of lightning before the surrounding crater vanished from existence. When it was over, even the smoking ruins where the jet had fallen were gone, as if two hundred feet of the world had ceased to be. The desert soil and sand were glassed under the unstable energies that had propelled the experimental ship through the sky.
Dwight tumbled and rolled several feet before losing inertia and stopping flat. From the growing ache in his muscles, he could tell that the serum had run its course, and he was descending into the hangover phase. The inevitable pain wouldn’t be nearly as debilitating as the first iteration of the Doc’s formula. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the rising sun over the valley. A miniature mushroom cloud of dust rose to block out the harsh rays.
The chorus of groans and coughing informed him that he was not the only one to survive the blast. Crawling to a sitting position, he watched as each of the metahumans climbed to their feet. Maybe he was simply used to being knocked on his ass and feeling like shit, but it was surprisingly easy to recover from the blast. Glitch had impressively carried both the launcher and the unconscious Power during her sprint, but now seemed too preoccupied with her prisoner to worry about the weapon. Dwight found the discarded tech a few feet from where the cyborg was slinging the young woman over her back, carrying her across her shoulders. Dwight picked up the weapon with his straining limbs, determined not to give up his new toy. Zhu sluggishly approached to oversee the remaining three Powers’ recovery.
He turned to Dwight, “You didn’t think to warn us in advance that you were planning a nuclear explosion?”
“You’re giving me way too much credit. That was their AI trying to take us with it,” he lied, “I told it there was no way it was leaving, and it decided that the flesh-sacks could burn.”
Cyrra had been listening to the conversation, “No! He wouldn’t do that! He’d never try to hurt us.”
Clearly, she underestimated her creation. Dwight did not share her naïveté. “Do I seem like the kind of person who could figure out how to do that?” He pointed to the vaporized hole where the ship had been, “Lady, I can barely figure out how to use my phone.”
Dwight set off back through the ruins to the bus station. It would be a long walk, with a splitting headache. The ever-present annoyance of Zhu’s complaints and the whining of the young vigilantes did nothing to help the condition of Dwight’s serum-hangover. Each step felt like his muscles were screaming from the abuse of the stolen powers. The oppressive heat of the badlands required them to take cover and rest every hour or so. By the time they finally reached the stop, the stars were just beginning to cast their eerie glow over the wasteland. Dwight felt relieved to be out of the ruins; whatever had destroyed the city of Sierra Grande, it left an air of dread over the broken metropolis.
Four
To his great relief, the last gas station before the ruins was a 24-hour establishment. Dwight trudged in at the last of his nerves, both from the exceptionally long walk and the complaining of the metahumans. He instructed the others to wait near the pumps. It wasn’t for any tactical reason; he was simply sick of them. They’d have hours before the next bus back to New Haven arrived, and he’d be damned if he was going to spend the entirety of that time in the company of six moody Powers. Inside the sparsely stocked rest stop, he found the painkillers and water he desperately needed.
Taking the pills and chugging the first water bottle before he’d even paid for it, he took a look at the ancient television hanging behind the counter. On it, The Hero Report broadcasted the week’s best gossip.
He’d never found that kind of information particularly useful in his line of work. Today’s segment, however, caught his interest due to the specific subject. He instantly recognized the gleaming silver armor and the blue, skin-tight uniform standing next to it. His ex-wife stood proudly beside Lawrence Adams, both clad in their crime-fighting regalia. The Steel Crusader’s suit put other tech heroes Dwight met to shame. Dwight doubted it was the Doc’s personal work, but he was certain that at least some of the features were “borrowed.” He’d seen the newly-arrived Cape dispatch a gang of bank robbers with shock pads identical to his own. The battery the suit ejected was the giveaway; either the Doc was in on the technology, or she was working on a patent lawsuit.
He listened to the reporter speaking over prerecorded video, “…with the announcement of their departure from the Guild, the Alpha Guard gains four new senior A-class heroes. Alpha Guard CEO Lawrence Adams welcomed Lock Heart and her team at today’s conference in his new Crusader Armor Mark 12.”
Linda looked pleased standing beside her new boss. All of the repressed resentment he saw the last time he watched the news was gone. Dwight felt happy for her; leaving the Guild was a huge step forward for an otherwise-stalled career. The only other time he saw her so delighted was the afternoon she joined the Guild’s Rising Stars Initiative. She hadn’t even been that excited on their wedding day.
His ex’s new job made Dwight hopeful for his return to New Haven. The rise of Adams’s Alpha Guard felt like a monumental step forward. Long ago, before Wulf – before the Guild – there was a time when each of the city’s teams worked independently. They ran themselves, policed each other, and protected the city on their own terms. That changed when the Guild engulfed them all, taking control one by one. The Guild’s politics and infighting put Wulf in charge of the city. Gradually, the heroes became the Capes that Dwight despised.
Dwight’s goal wasn’t the anarchy of a world without Capes, but a way outside of the Guild’s corruption. If it was under Guild control, it was under Wulf’s. Maybe what Adams was building could be the challenge the city needed to take itself back from their shadowy ruler.
The reporter continued, “…this marks the sixth team to leave the Justice Guild in the past month, with more defecting daily.”
The good news was almost enough to make Dwight forget about the throbbing behind his eyes. He turned away from the register to find Void standing right behind him watching the television. “What a piece of shit,” he said to n
o one in particular.
Dwight tilted his head into the old man’s view, “Excuse me?”
“Lawrence Adams. What a sack of tin-coated excrement. You wouldn’t believe what that waste of skin did to my timeline.” He looked like he was about to spit.
“But that’s another world, right? This version of Adams could be completely different.”
Zhu grimaced, his eyes narrowing, “There isn’t that much difference between what I’ve seen here or there. Garbage in one world is garbage in all of them.”
Dwight shook his head, “He’s just another Cape – admittedly, an absurdly rich one with aspirations of forming the second-largest superhuman team in the world. How bad could he be?”
Zhu sighed, “I thought that once, too, but you’ll have to see. I hope for us all that you’re right.” He turned and left through the dusty sliding doors.
Out in the lot, the gathered Powers waited for Dwight’s return. The one in the green, unoriginally nicknamed “Jade,” held a blood-soaked rag to her broken nose. Glitch watched over the four captives, leaning against the upright rocket launcher. The four young vigilantes sat silently, waiting for orders.
Dwight spoke as he approached, “Bus will be here in three hours. Sit tight and we’ll be in New Haven before you know it.”
“Why are you taking us there?” the skull-faced leader asked.
Dwight thought of the documents sealed in the briefcase, before remembering he left it in the crumbling office building back in the ruins. He sighed, “Because that’s what the Guild hired me to do.”
“But why the bus?” Jade inquired through the red cloth. “Shouldn’t you have your own ride or something?”
Before he could respond, Zhu tore open a substantial portal a few feet from their position. Through it, Dwight could see the glowing façade of the Heroes’ Welcome. The bright yellow letters cast their light out onto the parking lot.
Dwight’s frustration was palpable, “You’re telling me you could have opened a cross-country portal anytime you wanted!?”
Zhu glared back, “It’s only safe if I’ve been there before. Never having been to this shithole, I didn’t want to risk our lives.”
“But you could have gotten us back at any time.” His face was turning red in anger.
Zhu smirked, “I was enjoying watching you suffer to carry your stupid one-shot paperweight. Now I’m bored and want to get this job over with.” To prove his point, he casually sauntered through the violet vortex and along the sidewalk toward the empty diner. “Now move, before I shut it and leave you to find your own way back.”
The four prisoners and Glitch proceeded through without another word, while Dwight dragged his weapon through the portal. He expected there to be some grand transition as the material of time and space warped around him, but the feeling was similar to stepping through an open doorway. The only noticeable difference he felt as his body left the gate was the temperature shift of half a continent. The crisp evening air of the desert instantly shifted to the warmer urban environment of New Haven. That, of course, included the disagreeable stench of the midtown sewers. The moment the weighty tube cleared the swirling violet edge of it, the gateway shrank and sputtered out.
Zhu motioned for his captives to follow him, “You four are coming with me to Guild headquarters for processing. Glitch, Ref, do whatever the hell you want; we’re done here.” He started walking down the sidewalk, the others following.
“What are they going to do with us?” Cyrra asked Dwight, staggering behind.
Dwight decided unfiltered honesty would be best, “I don’t know, but if they wanted you dead, they’d have told me to do it out in the desert; you wouldn’t be here. My guess is you’re going to get some community service and, if you want, be added to the training schedule.”
“And if I don’t want to join the Guild?” Her eyes reflected the sadness of her voice.
“I honestly don’t know.” He wished he had the answer.
With that, she hurried away, trying to catch up to her friends.
Glitch poked the hitman in his shoulder, pulling his attention from the departing crowd. “What’s the plan, killer?”
Dwight thought for a moment. He could feel the pangs of hunger in his stomach, but couldn’t bear the thought of a second meal at the Welcome this week. There was another option that could help deal with the constant ache in his body.
“I need the doctor,” he groaned.
Glitch was confused, “Where did you get hurt?”
“No, not the hospital kind. I’m going to Ellis’s place.” He started searching the nearby streets for a cab.
Glitch smiled, hooking an arm in his while taking the launcher over her shoulder with her free hand, “Oh, lovely. I needed a check-up myself. Count me in!” It was the first time he’d ever heard someone happy about visiting the mad scientist.
Dwight abandoned the idea of finding a cab in the late evening, and walked with Glitch to the subway. Along the way, they shared their favorite stories of the doctor. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Dwight felt at ease talking with someone. He found the Cape’s casual demeanor disarming. There was something about her voice that reassured him.
Glitch was just finishing a story as they entered the nondescript door to the Doc’s lab, “…that’s when I found her hanging from the ceiling, sixty feet up, hair completely purple.” Glitch broke down in a fit of laughter. They both paid no attention to the multitude of cameras that had tracked their entry.
A voice called out across the lab, “And if that experiment had gone correctly, I would have permanently solved the energy crisis!” The Doc was at her station, as always.
Glitch dashed ahead, leaping from the catwalk and landing with a heavy thud. She dropped the launcher where she landed and ran up to hug Ellis, while Dwight made his way around. The friendly conversation during their journey and the sight of the warm greeting were almost enough to make him forget about his aching mind and body.
Descending the steel staircase, he noticed a piecemeal robotic body spread out over her workstation. The obviously feminine frame lay disassembled, entire sections missing their exterior plating. The inner musculature resembled a set of medieval medical drawings he had once seen in a museum. Overhead, a laser operating on a preset path cut delicate lines through the machine’s inner workings. As it did, Ellis’s hands danced around the focused light with a soldering iron, making minute adjustments despite the cyborg clinging to her back.
“I didn’t think I’d see you get into the life-size action figure market, Doc,” Dwight said, stepping up to the bench.
Ellis lifted the welding goggles from her eyes, replacing them with her thick glasses. Her lab coat was slightly more scorched than he was used to seeing. “This, my simple friend, is the next evolution of robotics. If I’m right, I’ve solved the circuit degradation problem, and this body should last indefinitely.”
Dwight picked up an unattached limb, “Uh huh, and how many concealed weapons are in it?”
She glared sternly, “None, you crude thug. Not everything I do is for the benefit of the Powers’ little game. This could be the advancement that revolutionizes our definition of life.”
Glitch touched the frame with a trembling hand, “How long until it’s ready?”
The Doc wiped a soot-covered wrist over her brow, spreading a thick black line over her dark skin. “Maybe another week or two, but I’m still trying to determine if your platform could be installed in it.” She read Glitch’s silent longing, “Right now, the system is designed for an AI like Alice to run it.”
“I see,” her disappointment was obvious.
Alice appeared on the monitor behind the Doc, “Ms. Park, I assure you that I will do all I can to evaluate the frame for you.”
Dwight suddenly remembered the USB tucked into his pocket, “Speaking of AIs…,” he dug the stick out, “You may want this.” He tossed it to the doctor.
She caught it out of the air, “Explain.
”
“This is the AI that was piloting my last target. I guess one of the little vigilantes was a bit of a programmer.” He started walking toward the Doc’s supply closet. The two women followed, stepping away from the stripped metal body.
Ellis took the lead, holding the device as if it was a hazardous specimen, “An AI programmed by a novice coder. Why did you bring it here?”
Dwight shrugged, “It said it could spy on the Guild for us if we let it into their system.”
“You’re an idiot. Unleashing a boundless AI into one of the most advanced networks in existence is beyond reckless – it’s suicidal. I really thought you would be smarter than that.”
Stepping into the closet, Dwight stopped, turning to face the older woman, “Why do you think I gave it to you? I figured you could integrate some controls in it, get it ready to go if we wanted to do it. I’m only half as stupid as you give me credit for.”
“Valid point,” was all she said, dropping the drive into a dented coffee can labeled “DANGEROUS.” Dwight wondered what other creations fell into that category by Ellis’s questionable definition.
“Anyway, I’m here because I need a replacement for my cartridge,” he said, lifting the panel to his prosthetic limb’s sealed compartment. He carefully pulled the spent cylinder from the injector.
The Doctor sighed, “Dwight, that stuff wasn’t easy to make. I assume you’re not using it casually?”
“Only in emergencies,” he lied. “The hangover is enough to keep me from using it for grocery runs.”
Glitch finally spoke up, “So that’s how you survived that three-story drop. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Captain Grouchy. My guess was that you had some kind of tech hidden in your coat. I didn’t think you’d unlocked chemical superpowers.”
Dwight passed the cyborg the empty cartridge, “She did. It’s my secret ace for dealing with the dozens of unhinged Powers that come in those briefcases. I try to use it sparingly.”
