by Mathy, Scott
“She’s taking a good deal of pain for you. We couldn’t just have her shut off your receptors completely, or I wouldn’t know if I had properly fixed the exoskeleton to your nervous system. Her solution was a half-measure. You really should get her a card or something.” The Doc tightened a bolt at his side, “Your muscles are fried, Dwight.”
He weakly attempted to lift his left arm. There was little response – certainly not enough to raise his forearm off the table. Giving up, he returned his neck to its neutral position on the table and let the scientist do her work. Beyond the occasional jerk from the adjustments she made, he couldn’t feel much of anything from his broken body. A sickness in the pit of his stomach gnawed at him.
Eventually, Ellis walked away, leaving him in silence at the center of her workstation. Lia remained in her corner a few feet beyond the limit of the hanging lights, locked in meditation so that her friend could feel some kind of rest.
Without warning, Bernard’s leering face leaned over Dwight’s prone form, causing him to painfully lurch in his harness. “’ello, mate,” he said, grinning his wicked smile.
Dwight’s eyes went wide, panic filling his useless body. He tried to shout for help, but only managed a startled whine. His gaze leapt to Lia, who remained completely still.
Bernard propped himself against the lab table, prodding Dwight’s disabled exoskeleton with his thick index finger. The pressure transferred excruciatingly through the bones it was attached to. “Nice bit ‘o gear ya got ‘ere. You ‘ave yourself a li’l accident?” He let out his throaty mocking laugh, “’Course you did. You was always worthless wivout me watching your arse.”
Dwight frantically searched for any way to alert the inert psychic or Ellis. He tried over and over to sit up in the metal frame, but Bernard’s slightest touch was more than enough to hold him in place.
“Calm yourself, lad. I ain’t here to kills ya. Quite the opposite.” The giant removed his hand from Dwight’s chest.
Just as he began to walk away, toward the direction the Doc had gone, the scientist returned. She stepped through Bernard as if he was a ghost, and the huge man dispersed into a thin fog. His menacing laughter faded as the last of the vapors dissipated.
Ellis rechecked Dwight’s eyes, finding only terror in them. “What is it? Are you in more pain?” She glanced over to Lia, still unmoved by his phantom visitor.
Dwight struggled against his own vocal cords, finally forcing a weak, “Bernard,” through his lips. His body sagged from the effort.
“What?” she pondered his meaning, “Oh, no.” She moved away, studying the monitoring equipment connected to her patient. “I was always afraid of this.”
Dwight stared at the Doc, waiting for her to continue her explanation.
“You could probably guess the source of the serum that you’ve been using as a crutch for sloppy planning: Bernard’s blood was the base of the formula. It’s why your system always reacted so poorly to it.” She pulled a screen into Dwight’s view. His brain scan showed several bright glowing spots against the deep grays of the outline.
“The overdose of the serum is poisoning you. Normally, your body would filter out the weakened regenerating blood, stealing its effects as you purged it from your system, but now it can’t. There was so much in you at once, it’s taking over, and replicating faster than it can be removed.” She pushed the monitor away, “You’re dying.”
Lia, still connected to Dwight, came to. She slowly rose from her seat and spoke for her wounded friend. “And you can’t stop it?” she asked, relaying Dwight’s failed attempts at speech.
The doctor began tinkering with the disconnected arm at Dwight’s side. “I didn’t say that. This is just another challenge. Admittedly, an astronomically difficult one, but isn’t that what you pay me for?” She pulled one of the toxic metal cylinders from her pocket, spinning it agilely between her fingers. “I can stabilize you for a while with what we have left of Bernard’s serum, but you’ll die without a constant feed of the stuff. Your body is basically addicted to it; without it, your organs will shut down. But”, she added, “provided our source is still alive, I can take all the blood I need to cure you.”
“How are you going to cure him with more of what’s killing him?” Lia asked for Dwight.
“What’s killing Dwight is the hybrid of Bernard’s noxious blood and a few other chemical enhancers. The test compound I’ve been working on since Ian brought him here is the equivalent of an antibody. I just need more of the pure substance to activate it.”
She plugged the tube into an injector socketed in the new prosthetic, examining the connections carefully and tweaking the settings on the dials. “I’m happy to say that I’m going to need to take quite a bit. He still owes me for the last time we met.”
She set the new arm into the connective housing mounted to Dwight’s torso. It slid together smoothly, locking in place just as his old forearm did. He felt the artificial nerves come alive as the connections linked. The slow release of the chemical in the limb elicited a relieved sigh from Dwight’s limp form.
Lia touched his shoulder, “We don’t know what Wulf did with him; he could be anywhere.”
“That’s true, but I’ll just assume that he’s in the worst place possible, and Wulf will be willing to give us that information if we ask nicely.” She pondered that thought, “Or threaten him with the one thing that he’s really afraid of.”
“And that is?” Lia asked.
“Why, my dear, the one person responsible for the last time he nearly lost control of his empire. Come on; you look like you could use a trip downtown. I want to see how your powers have been developing without that nasty little limiter.” She hefted a black duffle bag over her shoulder, “And I have so many new toys I would love to employ on a live target that can regenerate indefinitely.”
Dwight sat up, straining in the exoskeleton, but thankful his body finally responded to his commands. He felt sluggish in the metal frame. “I’m not going to be able to fight in this,” he groaned.
The Doc seemed insulted by the criticism, “I haven’t turned it on, dummy. I didn’t want you hurting yourself until I got the drip running. From what you’ve just experienced, I’d say the serum is having a secondary effect. You’re seeing Bernard because there must be some remnant of his personality in the blood. Are you seeing him now?”
Dwight looked around the lab, searching for the figment, “No, he disappeared after you came back.”
“Interesting. It must have something to do with your brain’s reaction to varying levels of the serum. Vile fucker, isn’t he? Even his fluids are tainted by the piece of shit. You’re going to have to deal with that. Just remember he isn’t actually there and can’t hurt you any more than he already is.”
She grabbed another tethered monitor hanging from the workstation. A few quick commands entered into the touch screen, and a growing hum came from Dwight’s rig. Slowly, the metallic frame became lighter as it began to carry itself from the harness affixed to his spine.
The Doc raced around him, checking connections and wiping a few spots of blood from his skin with a clean rag. “I was developing this for wounded soldiers. Funny that you’re the closest thing I ever seem to have to a viable test subject.”
Dwight tested the flexibility of the exoskeleton; the hydraulics moved smoothly. With another adjustment, the fittings tightened, closing in against his skin. Suddenly, the cumbersome rig felt like a complement to his own body, rather than a hindrance.
The Doc handed him a stack of clothes. Dwight examined the dress pants, collared shirt, and plain white undershirt. He raised an eyebrow at the woman’s selection.
“I’m not your mother, but for fuck’s sake, you’re a single man who’s almost forty. Start taking some pride in your appearance. Consider the clothes a gift.”
Lia snickered.
Once he dressed, the only visible signs of his brace were the wired rings attached to the fingers of his left hand. Everything
else was covered and didn’t so much as leave a trace under the shirt. He had to give it to her, the clothes fit perfectly; the Doc had clearly done her homework. His new hand glistened in the lamps of the workstation.
The Doc led the three to her garage. In the corner of the room, Dwight spotted the disassembled pieces of Jezebel. The prototype motorcycle was a sad reminder of the last time Dwight borrowed one of Ellis’s prized inventions. He suspected she was only delaying the repairs out of passive-aggressive spite.
“We’re taking my car,” she yanked a black tarp to the side, revealing a rarely used convertible.
Through the clear hood, Dwight saw the intricate series of coils the mad scientist had replaced the engine with; it looked similar to the setup her motorcycle had used for power.
Dwight stepped up to the driver’s side, only to have the doctor dash past him and leap over the shut door. She landed on the seat with a grunt, then started the vehicle. As the engine surged to life with a burst of electrical energy, a simulated engine roar echoed through the workshop.
“No, no, my dear Referee,” She spread her fingers over the leather steering wheel, caressing the material. “I’m driving.”
Eight
There were few times Dwight had been more certain that he was going to die. For all his recent experience staring down violent superpowered sociopaths, it was the Doc’s maniacal driving that frightened him most. His terrified mind pondered how large of an explosion the Doc’s modified convertible would create. He decided on the words “nuclear” and “city-wide.”
Ellis seemed to be having the time of her life. Her laughter, only occasionally interrupted by a symphony of creative and disturbingly descriptive profanity, bellowed from the car's open top. Lia and Dwight held on for dear life while the scientist weaved through the midday traffic. She jerked the car around a bus, eliciting another stream of explicit language. Out of the corner of his eye, Dwight spotted a speed limit sign; he couldn’t tell if they were currently going double or triple the expressed number.
Given the suicidal speeds at which they were traveling, it took little time for them to reach StarPoint’s front drive. Ellis spun the car to the left, leaving the city street and entering the private road. She raced past a raised security gate. The Associate manning it barely had an opportunity to register their passing before they were halfway up the path. The massive golden statues of bygone heroes sailed by with no sign of Ellis slowing the vehicle.
As they reached the apex of the road at the front steps of the building, the doctor jerked the wheel. The car twisted to skid a few feet before stopping mere inches from the raised curb and the stairs that ascended to Wulf’s private tower. Dwight felt his stomach lurch heavily as the vehicle leaned to the side, lifting two of its wheels off the pavement, before dropping back and settling with a groan. Ellis cut the power as the rocking stopped. She hopped over the side of the car, taking the keys with her. Dwight and Lia spent a few seconds reliving their past mistakes while they loosened their respective death grips on the convertible’s interior.
Ellis was already digging through the trunk as her passengers disembarked from the overpowered vehicle. Dwight’s graying hair was a total wreck from the journey.
Three Associates appeared at the enormous entrance to the tower. The men wore the signature dark navy suits of Wulf’s hired muscle. Dwight prepared himself to confront them when he heard Ellis slam the trunk closed. She strolled past him even as he looked to her for guidance. The men formed a semi-circle in front of the mad scientist. She turned and waved for her companions to join her, away from the car.
Removing the keychain from her labcoat, she pressed a button on what, to a normal person, would be a keyless entry. Dwight, knowing better of the Doc, wasn’t the least bit surprised as a cage of blue electrical energy enshrouded the vehicle. The field crackled in the afternoon sun.
“Anyone who comes within five feet of my ride will be the recipient of twenty-thousand volts.” She swung the duffle bag under her arm. “I’m here for an appointment with your boss.”
The first Associate checked his earpiece, “Mr. Wulf does not have any appointments this afternoon. I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’ll need to leave.”
Ellis cast a glance over her shoulder to Lia, who nodded knowingly. By now, Dwight was accustomed to the feeling of Lia’s mental projections; a wave of psychic interference emanated from the woman until it consumed the entire tower, forming an enormous dome. The three underlings froze in place, the lead man still holding a hand to his ear.
Ellis threw a rough shoulder into the Associate as she walked through the pack of bouncers, knocking the man to the concrete stairs. He dropped limply on the step, his expression unchanged. “‘Ma’am,’” she spat,” consider yourself lucky I’m not a spiteful woman.”
The others followed her up the landing and into the lobby. The familiar cases of memorabilia still lined the room, fully restored from Dwight’s fight with Rampage. Throughout the hall, the tower’s visitors and gathered Associates stood like mannequins. If Lia found this level of manipulation difficult, she wasn’t showing it. Her calm expression worked from one display to the next as they made their way through the sixty or so unmoving individuals. Eventually, they found their way to the express elevators at the rear of the lobby.
Dwight, recalling the tower’s security, stopped at the manned guard station to loot one of the stationary Associates for the keycard. He rejoined the Doc and Lia in front of the steel doors before swiping the ID over the reader.
“He knows we’re coming,” Lia announced as they waited, “and he’s not happy about it.”
Dwight placed the card in his pocket, figuring he’d build a collection of the pilfered items, “Why would he be? The last time you were here, some asshole tore his head off.”
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. They filed in, allowing the doors to close before Dwight spoke again, “If you can pull Bernard’s location from his mind, we can go; no threats needed.”
Lia shook her head, “That won’t work. Wulf’s mind is like a trap. He’s too old, too strange, and too careful for me to just steal the information. I could turn off his powers temporarily like before, but not if I’m keeping tabs on the rest of the building. He’s too strong to do both at the same time. If he’s not willing to give up wherever he sent the oaf, we’re out of luck.”
“Great,” Dwight said, “so we’re relying on him feeling generous, or placing any value on my life.” He felt his chances of survival dwindling by the second.
The elevator signaled its arrival at the top floor, its doors gliding open smoothly. Little had changed about the foyer of Wulf’s inner lair. The black marble surfaces echoed loudly as they approached the oak double doors. Six Associates stood frozen around the hall – Wulf’s futile attempt to bar their entrance.
Inside the chamber, they could see the sun hanging low over the city, shining bright blue through the tinted windows. Behind his desk, Wulf stood waiting for his unwanted guests. His personal assistant lay on the floor, likely pushed over by his employer as a test. The white-suited tyrant glared angrily at the visitors.
“Mr. Knolls,” he called across the room as they entered, his frustration apparent, “I did not summon you, and you certainly are not welcome here without my express invitation. There is protocol for a reason.”
Dwight answered as they made their way to the seats positioned in front of the obsidian slab, “You’re right, boss. But we need some critical information and didn’t have time to wait for an appointment.” He stopped in front of the desk, forgoing the chairs. “I need to know where Bernard is.”
Out of the corner of his eye, his aforementioned ex-partner materialized near the armored suits that lined the exterior of the office. The phantom paced between the displays, as if stalking some unseen prey.
Wulf ran a hand through his dark hair, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Your former partner is quite beyond reach for, well, the remainder of eternity.”
>
Dwight calmly pleaded, “Look, Wulf, if I don’t get to him, I’m dead. Poisoned. An ex-Referee. We need him. Please, just tell us where he is, and we’ll be out of here.”
Wulf’s aggravated expression remained unchanged, “No, Mr. Knolls. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Ellis, who had taken a seat in one of the oversized office chairs and set her bag across her lap, pulled an impressive-looking pistol from the carrier. “Can’t, or won’t?” she asked, training the weapon at the ancient villain.
Wulf snarled through clenched teeth, “Either. Both. Regardless, do you really think shooting me will get you anywhere? I’ve faced down gods, you simpleton.”
The Doc pulled the trigger, blasting a remarkable hole through the center of the man’s torso and into the back window. The laser burned a six-inch circle through the glass. A frigid, howling wind entered the office. Wulf’s face transitioned from staggered to furious before he dropped to his knees behind the desk.
For several seconds, Dwight speculated whether the grinning Doctor had killed the unkillable. Then Wulf stood, the pale flesh of his torso regenerating beneath the circle of burnt material in his white suit. The wound filled itself in, the tissues and organs repairing themselves as it went.
“You monstrous little--!” he yelled.
Ellis cut him off, firing the weapon again, hitting the exact same spot. Wulf’s body fell again behind the desk. The doctor blew smoke from the barrel of the gun, “I could do this all day.”
Lia and Dwight – partially entranced, partially horrified by the spectacle – watched as Wulf rose again, growing angrier by the second. From the sidelines, the figment of Bernard laughed uncontrollably.
“Try me,” he growled.
She obliged him, this time aiming a few inches lower, the laser incinerating the top of his toned abdomen. Wulf gripped the edge of his desk, holding himself upright as the laser tore through him.
