by Matt Cowper
She carefully handed it to Deathrain. “Here. But let the record state I think this is a terrible idea.”
“Duly noted.”
“And Deathrain...thank you. No matter what happens, I know you've––”
“Thank me when we're out in the open air.”
Deathrain clutched the Nova grenade tightly, making sure not to put her finger anywhere near the red button. If she pressed it, the grenade would explode within three seconds. While pressing the button again would disable it, Deathrain didn't want to take the chance of a lethal malfunction.
“OK, which direction do we go?” Ava asked. “Stay here and blast, or crawl back up to where you were lying? Or dig in some other direction?”
Deathrain had no idea, but conveying uncertainty now might lead to Ava rethinking a plan she'd already said was terrible. Deathrain looked around quickly, hoping she'd see, hear, or smell something that would point her in the right direction: a shaft of light, the sounds of first responders, trash from an alleyway's dumpsters.
But there was nothing besides her breathing, the hum of the Metalhead armor, the light from the armor's chestplate, and the odor of dust and metal.
“I think I see something,” Deathrain lied. “Come on, get ready.”
“What? Where? I don't see––”
“Right there. That shaft of light.”
“Deathrain, my vision is tied to the suit, and it's far more comprehensive and accurate than yours. I'm telling you––”
Deathrain wrapped her arms around the armor and dragged it into the tunnel a few feet. Ava squealed and her one remaining hand banged on Deathrain's arm.
“Let me go! You're making this up, aren't you? You can't see anything!”
Deathrain pressed the button on the Nova grenade, eliciting another squeal from the AI. She tossed the bomb a few feet away, then hugged the armor tightly.
“Hold on,” she said.
“Deathrain, you––”
Ava's likely expletive-filled diatribe was cut off by a bone-rattling explosion. Again white fire surrounded them, and Deathrain felt the flesh of her back melting and her bones heating up.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all....
Chapter Sixteen
The explosion pushed them through the rubble, but Deathrain didn't know exactly which way; the pain had almost caused her to black out. Chunks of concrete bashed against them, and a heavy groaning, like a thunderstorm, now replaced the sound of the bomb's explosion.
Then the air was cool and vast, and stars twinkled overhead. Deathrain sucked in huge lungfuls of air; she hadn't realized how truly stifling it had been under that rubble until now.
Reflexively, she reached to her back. Scorched flesh. Bones. Seeping blood. Pain.
She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, trying to shove the agony into a locked room inside her mind.
“Deathrain! Holy shit!” Ava shouted. “You look...your back, your legs....”
“I am...aware...that I look like...roadkill....”
“I can't believe...how can I help? I've only got a little bit of power left, but....”
“Just tell me...where we are,” Deathrain said, “and if there's anyone around.”
“We got blown into a construction site. The first responders are on the other side of the building, but they heard the explosion – and a few pedestrians and hobos are looking us over. I know you're hurt...”
“...but we need to move. Not wise for an assassin and a...unique AI to hang around. Just a few more seconds, OK?”
While her wounds closed, Deathrain opened her eyes and tried to confirm Ava's observations. But her vision was bleary, and the pain was still so intense she could only handle it by gritting her teeth and again closing her eyes.
She had seen that they were near a chain-link fence, and that there was intricate scaffolding nearby. Luckily, it was night, or this construction site would be teeming with workers. As it was, she thought she'd seen a few gray blobs on the sidewalk that may have been curious onlookers.
Groaning, she pushed herself up to her knees, but vertigo immediately hit her, though she still had her eyes closed.
This wasn't normal shock and nausea, even considering the circumstances. She felt her head, and sure enough, a large portion had been blasted off. She thought her fingers brushed against her brain as she probed her head wound, but she couldn't be certain.
“Ava, I'm in a...bad way here,” Deathrain said. “Brain's been scrambled...literally. You'll have to guide me.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Vision's off. Got a bad case of vertigo. Mind's moving at one-quarter speed. I can carry you, but think of me like a...like a....”
“Blinkered horse? Erm, sorry...that was probably offensive....”
“No, that analogy works...just fine. Now where are you?”
“Here.”
A cool metal hand slapped against Deathrain's, and the assassin crawled over to the armor, then attempted to hoist it onto her back.
And failed: her still-injured knees buckled, and she slammed face-first to the pavement, shattering a few teeth and intensifying her mental agony.
“Deathrain, are you OK?” Ava asked, patting her body with concern.
“No,” Deathrain replied simply.
“I'm sorry...I know this armor is heavy, even though it's nearly been blown to smithereens.”
It wasn't only the heaviness that bothered Deathrain. She was much stronger than a normal woman, as her healing factor allowed her to train longer and harder. Her power was actually on par with the hulks who participated in strongman competitions.
But without a properly-functioning brain, and with her body singed like a pig roasting over a spit, the Metalhead armor felt like it weighed twenty tons.
Gritting her mostly-shattered teeth, Deathrain again tried to lift the armor. This time, she managed to drape Ava's arm over her shoulder and nestle the armor's head against her neck. On trembling legs, she moved down the sidewalk, in the direction where she thought she'd seen an alleyway.
“You're doing great, Deathrain,” Ava said, her voice an admittedly sweet whisper in her ear. “People have noticed us, but we'll be long gone before they catch up, won't we? OK, now turn left...no, your other left...OK, now we're in an alleyway next to the construction site. Keep going, there's a stack of bricks near the end. Maybe we can hide behind them.”
Deathrain kept plodding along, and the AI continued to whisper encouragement. Slowly, her mental fog cleared, and her steps became more sure. By the time they'd reached the pile of bricks Ava had mentioned, Deathrain was walking upright with her eyes wide open.
“I'm setting you down,” Deathrain said, before slipping the armor gently off her shoulder and leaning it against the bricks.
Once Ava was situated, she peered out from behind the bricks. Several policemen with flashlights were standing at the end of the alley, probably debating whether to head down it.
Next Deathrain looked through the chain-link fence into the messy and equipment-laden construction site. Two other cops had hopped the fence and were shining their flashlights into every crevice and shadow.
“The police are fanning out,” Deathrain whispered. “They'll find us eventually if we stay here.”
“But at the pace you're moving....”
“I'm feeling better,” Deathrain said, “but even at full strength, I'd still have to carry you. What we need is a distraction.”
“Like this?”
Two compartments hissed open on the armor, and two objects, much like the Nova grenade, slid out.
“Flashbangs,” Ava said. “Only two I have left.”
“Got it.”
Deathrain palmed the grenades, then got into lobbing position. The cops were heading down the alley at a brisk pace, their hands on their pistols. Though Deathrain was being careful, she wouldn't have been surprised if they'd already spotted her.
The two cops within the construction site were also moving clos
er, their flashlights shooting forward like giant lances.
Deathrain pressed the trigger buttons on the flashbangs and hurled one at each group of cops. Without waiting to see their effects, she again lifted up the armor and half-jogged, half-shuffled down the alleyway.
Cries from behind her, and flashlight beams slashing in all directions – as well as the lack of gunshots – indicated the grenades had the desired effect.
Reaching the end of the alleyway, Deathrain looked around quickly for a suitable hiding spot. Kain's building had straddled the edge between Midtown and Bootheel, but now the setting was decidedly Bootheel: small shops, bars, laundromats, numerous boarded up storefronts.
“Not to be a bother,” Ava said, “but my power is waning. I need to connect to a power source, and soon.”
“Will a standard wall outlet work? I don't exactly see any high-tech power cores around here.”
“Yeah, I might brown-out the entire block if I connect to an outlet, but it'll do.”
Deathrain shambled towards a nearby closed storefront – BOBBY-O's WACKY TOBACKY BARN – and kicked in the glass door. The noise drew the attention of a few Bootheel residents, and the pursuing cops, once they'd recovered from being blinded, would surely notice the shattered glass.
They could worry about the consequences later. Right now, Ava needed power.
Deathrain carried the armor past hookahs, psychedelic posters, and lava lamps, and set it down behind the checkout counter. Numerous outlets were nearby, used by the store's computers, television, and the neon-lit aquarium decorated with treasure chests and shipwrecks.
Ava's hand jolted towards an outlet, and a thick plug and cord extended from her forearm. With a sound that was part sob, part trembling laugh, she plugged in.
As Ava had predicted, immediately the lights outside, as well as the few lights that had been left on in this store, began to dim.
Ava, however, began to glow, and the armor's hum began to return to its jet-like roar. The AI let out a cry of delight, and her hand shook Deathrain's arm excitedly.
“Thank you,” Ava said. “I thought I was...but let's not dwell on that. We made it! We're alive!”
Deathrain found herself returning the ecstatic handshake. “Yeah, we are.”
The armor's faceplate shone strangely. “I was...I was wrong about you. Auspice was right: you have changed. I'm sorry I....”
“I know. And I'm sorry about Frankie. He didn't deserve...that.”
Man and machine stared at each other in understanding for what seemed like an hour. Deathrain wished she could extend this moment, to sit here and relish their mutual understanding and peace.
But then a megaphone-enhanced voice shouted: “Come out of there with your hands up!”
Deathrain hopped up and peeked over the counter. Outside, three police cars and about a dozen cops had guns trained on the building. When they saw the top of Deathrain's head, a few shouted and pointed, and the imposing man with the megaphone sent another withering command her way.
“We see you in there! I repeat: surrender now, or we will enter in force!”
“Looks like our little moment is ruined,” Ava said.
Deathrain smirked. “Too bad, huh? We can go out the back, or head up to the roofs. With your power building back up, we can use your beams to blow through walls, or––”
“No, I don't think so.”
“What?”
Another cord extended from her forearm, this time much thinner. It jacked into the store's internet router, and Ava let out a squeak.
“Ah. The internet....”
“What are you doing, Ava?” Deathrain asked.
“I'm going to compress my mind and then shoot it to a secure location. This armor is almost useless, and you'll never gain any ground if you have to lug me on your back.”
“Are you sure that's––”
“I'll be fine,” Ava said. “It'll just be like taking a nap, and I'll be a little groggy when I wake up – so to speak. Luckily for us, this store has a fast internet connection. I'll be gone in a minute or so, and then you can zip away from these cops.”
Deathrain peered at the nearly-ruined armor through misty eyes. It felt like she was losing an old friend, though less than an hour ago the AI had been trying to kill her, and had succeeded in slaughtering Auspice.
This was a strange world....
“So – I guess this is goodbye....” Deathrain said.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Ava extended the armor's dented hand again. “Thank you, Deathrain. I won't forget how you helped me – and I won't forget Auspice.”
Deathrain shook the metal hand. “And I won't forget Frankie. And I...well, who knows, Z City may be seeing a new superheroine soon.”
Ava nodded. “I think that'd be great.” The armor's lights briefly shifted colors. “That's my cue. Time to fly through the Net.”
“Goodbye, Ava.”
“Goodbye, Deathrain.”
The armor's lights pulsed brightly, then turned off, and the humming of the armor's engines and cooling systems died down. The armor's head tilted sideways, and its hand clanked to the floor.
Ava had gone, to wherever safe haven she'd chosen. The Metalhead armor was now nothing but scrap metal.
The cop outside was still blaring and threatening, so Deathrain crab-walked to the store's back room. After taking one last look at the defunct armor, she slipped away.
Chapter Seventeen
The faraway lights of Z City twinkled, and overhead the clouds scudded past a bright half-moon. Down below, the waters of Jameson Bay lapped gently against the pebbled shore. It was a peaceful scene, a scene with a far different vibe than when she'd last been here.
This was where Deathrain had washed ashore after being shot by Sergei and knocked into the bay. She'd awoken with arrows sticking out of her body and a great weakness crushing her like a giant fist. She could've died then, could've ended up as food for the crabs and fish, but her healing factor had pulled through.
Still, these past few days had tested her superpowers. Rarely had she been brutalized so many times in quick succession. Even though her body was now healed, a dark cloud similar to the ones overhead seemed to hang over her.
After Ava departed, Deathrain had eluded the cops, then looped back around to Kain's collapsed headquarters. Finding a perch atop a nearby building, she'd watched the crews sift through the rubble, looking for survivors. It had been hours before they dug out Auspice and Kain.
Auspice's body had been twisted and crushed so badly she'd had to look away. She'd seen many mangled bodies like that in her life, but they usually belonged to strangers, not people close to her.
Had Auspice really been close, though? They'd only known each other for a few moments, and half of that time they'd been fighting.
But like Ava – and like Vera and Nolan – Auspice had made an impression, one that wouldn't soon fade.
Kain's body had been horribly cracked, like someone had worked him over with jackhammers, and giant holes peppered his body. Still, his durability was enough that he'd survived, as he'd planned all along. Deathrain watched the EMTs' ministrations with icy anger, and considered dropping down there and finishing the villain off.
But she held back, and eventually overcame her rage.
Instead, she'd left the scene and wandered the streets of Z City – alone, numb, and now homeless.
She couldn't return to her apartment. Vera and Nolan had been murdered there.
When she'd discovered the bodies, Deathrain had considered slipping them out of the building and delivering them to the morgue with an explanatory note. But that would've been dangerous: too many prying eyes who might see her with the bodies.
Instead, she'd simply called the police, pretending to be a neighbor, and told them something fishy was going on. The police would find the bodies and notify the families, as Deathrain wanted – but they'd also automatically assume Emily Bell had something to do with the murders, since it was, after all, h
er apartment, and she'd apparently flown the coop.
So now her Emily Bell identity was blown. Not that it mattered; Deathrain cared more about Vera and Nolan getting proper burials than maintaining yet another fiction.
So, the pressing question: what next?
The dark bay and the shining stars had no answers.
Sighing, Deathrain walked around the rocky beach, hopping from one barnacle-covered boulder to another. Far off, a small boat rushed through the water, in the direction of Midtown. Perhaps a fisherman returning home, or simply someone out for a late-night pleasure cruise.
Minutes passed. Then perhaps hours. And all she did was hop across the rocks in one direction, then back in the other direction, over and over.
Auspice was gone. Kain was gone. Vera and Nolan were gone. Ava was somewhere.
There was only her: Deathrain. Real name: Tabitha Reed.
It had been a long time since she'd thought of Tabitha Reed.
Deathrain peeled off her mask and stared at it. Such a simple thing: just smooth black leather with two eye-slits. Yet the leather mask of Deathrain was known around the world.
She should toss it into the bay and be done with it, as she'd promised.
But what would she do next? Be a superheroine? Get a white mask, instead of a black one? Try to dredge up Tabitha Reed, the woman she'd once been?
Her phone buzzed, the noise shocking her so much she nearly dropped the mask. Pulling it out of her pocket, she saw she had an email.
But it wasn't an email to Deathrain or Emily Bell. It was to Valerie Webb, the identity she'd used when she'd visited the Rosellos.
Sweat forming on her brow, she opened the email and read:
We know you're Deathrain. We had our suspicions. We thought your appearance at our home as Valerie, and you giving us that check, was odd, but we tried not to think about it.
But now Ava has become truly sentient – we guess that's the right word – and told us what happened between you and her, and that poor hero Auspice.
It's all very strange to us. We wish there was some way to reverse all that's happened – but of course, there isn't.
