It is done, said the voices from within me, this time in a deafening roar. All hail the new Omega.
My costume complete, I levitated to my feet. In addition to being completely healthy again, I felt an exhilarating rush, like I could do absolutely anything. I stared down at my suit-covered hands. Normally I saw faint waves of power emanating from them. Now the waves were so thick and intense, it almost made me dizzy to look at them. Also, my hands’ normal burning sensation now felt like the burning of a supernova. It was not painful though. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.
I clenched my fist, almost drunk with the power coursing through me. I sensed the rumbling of a distant mountain many miles away. Startled, I realized I caused it. I unclenched my fist and relaxed my will. I felt the distant rumbling stop. Dealing with all this power from the Omega weapon being reunited with the Omega spirit would take some getting used to.
I looked up. Isaac stared at me with bulging eyes, like I had sprouted a second head that spoke Aramaic. Proving he was never at a loss for words, he said, “Not that I’m criticizing your snazzy new threads, but what about sticking with your Kinetic suit’s design? I kinda liked it.”
“Kinetic is dead,” I declared. “I am Omega now.”
24
“Omega, eh?” Truman said. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I like it. I’m just glad you didn’t opt for a code name like Godling or Demigod. Too pretentious.”
“I’m so happy you approve,” I said.
Isaac and I sat in Truman’s office. It was mid-morning. As a repairman had fixed Truman’s window, the morning sun streamed in. We were strategizing how we would try to defeat the Sentinels now that I had the Omega weapon. Though my power level had been increased exponentially, having the Omega weapon made me no smarter or wiser. I felt like a child who had been handed a loaded howitzer and told to go fight the U.S. Marines.
Though I appeared to be sitting in Truman’s office in normal clothes, in fact I wore the Omega weapon. I would have to start thinking of it as the Omega suit. I had found I could alter its appearance with a thought. It promised to really cut down on my clothing expenses. The Omega suit was now a part of me until I either gave it up or was killed. I had no plans to do either anytime soon.
It turned out that while Isaac and I had been retrieving the Omega weapon, Truman had been productive as well. He had determined that Antonio was hiding in a small village in southern Italy, having been shipped out of the country by the Esposito crime family to keep him from being questioned by American authorities regarding Hannah’s murder. The Espositos were likely also afraid Antonio would spill the beans regarding all the illegal things he had done for them over the years if he cracked under pressure from the authorities. According to Truman’s sources, Antonio was having a grand old time banging the local girls and bullying the local boys while he cooled his heels. Antonio having the time of his life while Hannah moldered in her grave made my blood boil.
Now that I knew where Antonio was, I would have to deal with him. But first, the Sentinels. Because of the power they possessed, they were the more pressing matter.
As if on cue, a man in a dark business suit abruptly appeared in front of Truman’s desk between where Isaac and I sat. He appeared out of nowhere. One moment he was not there, and the next instant he was.
Before either Isaac or I could react, a column of water from the large bowl on Truman’s desk sprang out of the bowl like a striking snake. It whipped toward the interloper’s head. It sailed right through his head as if he didn’t exist, and splashing against the opposite wall.
Though I barely saw him move, Truman’s gun was now in his hand. He pointed it at the man.
“Aside from that neat little intangibility trick, you certainly don’t look like Casper the Ghost,” Truman said to the besuited, middle-aged man. “You don’t look that friendly, either. You want to tell me who you are and what you’re doing here? If you’re looking for a place to haunt, I’m not interested. I’m already wrestling with a bunch of demons from my past. I don’t need to add ghosts to the mix.”
Isaac and I were on our feet now. Isaac looked ready to pounce on the man.
“I know who he is,” I said, though I had no idea how he was here. He had a thin black moustache and stringy black hair that was receding in the front corners. He was of medium build and looked fit and trim in his dark suit. The suit was well-tailored but dated, as if it had been designed a couple of generations ago. I poked at him experimentally with my telekinetic touch. My touch met with no resistance whatsoever. Even with holographic projections I could feel something. It was as if the man was not really here. “This is Jeffrey Cole.” Isaac looked at me blankly. “Mechano. I recognize him from the pictures taken of him before his human body died.”
Cole beamed at me as if he was Jeopardy’s Alex Trebek and I had just doubled my money by answering a Daily Double correctly.
“You’re quite right, Mr. Conley,” he said. “I see you’ve done your homework on me. Admirable.” His voice was like Mechano’s, only without the slight electronic distortion.
“Okay, now I know who you are,” Truman said. “I still want to know what you’re doing in my office. And how you’re here when your human body is dead. I’m as uninterested in zombies hanging around here as I am in ghosts.”
Cole looked at Truman. “Mr. Lord, I have not seen you since we hired you to find Avatar’s murderer. I see you have not changed.”
“Why mess with perfection?” Truman replied.
“You are obviously working with our young friends here. You have a habit of turning up in the most unexpected of places.”
“Me?” Truman’s gun still pointed at Cole, though I didn’t know what good it would do. “You’re the dead man standing in my office doing a poltergeist impersonation.”
Cole pursed his lips in amusement. “You are quite right. A few words of explanation. I am here thanks to the talents of my colleague Millennium. What you see before you is an astral projection of my essence.” He shook his head slightly in bemusement. “I was an engineer long before I was a Hero. As such, I once believed only in what I could touch and objectively measure. Before I met Millennium, I would have scoffed at you if you spoke to me of ‘astral projections’ and ‘essences.’ And yet, here I am.”
“Don’t let the door hit your astral ass on the way out,” Truman said. “We’re having a private meeting about the joy of doing good deeds. Since you wouldn’t know anything about that, three’s company but four’s a crowd. If we decide to murder innocent people instead of do-gooding, we’ll give you a ring for some tips. Until then . . .” Truman made a shooing motion with his gun.
Cole laughed mockingly. As self-assured as he sounded in his robot form, he seemed even more so now. There seemed to be a permanent self-satisfied smirk on his face. If there had been something here for me to physically grab hold of, I likely would have wiped the smug look off his face with a hot poker. “Murdering innocent people? Such slanderous allegations. You should not believe everything you hear,” Cole said to Truman in a mocking tone. “You would think that the only man in history to turn down a Sentinels’ membership would be less gullible.”
Truman said, “You’d think a man made of tin would kill less and hang out with lions and scarecrows and girls named Dorothy more. Actually, I take that back about Dorothy. Since you’re just a bucket of bolts these days, you don’t have the necessary equipment to be interested in girls anymore.”
Cole’s cocky smirk faltered a bit. “You are as deluded of your wittiness as ever. To paraphrase Twain, I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed. Except for that gun, of course. Put it away before you hurt yourself. Like the water you flung at me, I assure you it would be most ineffective against me in this form.”
Truman’s computer screen flickered, and then shut off. So did the overhead lights, startling me. Cole looked amused by my reaction. “Never fear,” he said. “It is merely a reaction to my appearan
ce here. Magic and technology do not mix well together.” Fortunately, enough daylight came in through Truman’s new window for us to still see.
Truman looked stubborn for a moment, then put his gun back into his open desk drawer. He no doubt realized Cole was right about the gun being useless. I noticed he did not close the drawer back.
“Okay, we know who you are and how you are here,” Truman said. “The question of why you’re here remains. To confess your multiple sins and crimes and turn yourself in, I hope. Truman ‘The Eternal Optimist’ Lord is what they call me. Maybe I’ll take the code name Pollyanna, instead. It’s shorter.”
That got a slight smile out of Cole. He looked like he was enjoying himself immensely. “Hardly. You will hear no confession from me. Any alleged sins I may have committed have been in pursuit of the greater good. They require no absolution.” Cole looked at me. “Rather, I’m here to demand that you turn over the Omega weapon.”
I hoped the surprise I felt didn’t register on my face. “I told you before, I don’t know anything about it.”
Cole’s smile got broader. “Mr. Conley, you have proven yourself to be many things. A good liar is not one of them. The Omega spirit’s reunion with the Omega weapon sent shockwaves through the mystical realm. Or so Millennium tells me. I am a man of engineering and science. I do not understand such things. The fact I do not understand them does not mean they do not exist. My presence here in this form is proof enough of that. Once Millennium sensed the Omega spirit and weapon were together again, it was a simple enough matter for him to pinpoint the locus of the shockwaves and send me here to have this chat with you. You I was expecting to see, Mr. Geere. You and Mr. Conley seem to be inseparable. I did not realize you were mixed up in this as well though, Mr. Lord.”
“A bad penny always turns up,” Truman said. “You being here is proof enough of that.”
“Even if Theo did have the Omega weapon,” Isaac said to Cole, “why in the world would he be stupid enough to hand it over to you after all you’ve done?”
“Because he is too young and inexperienced to use it wisely. My colleagues and I will use it wisely.”
I didn’t see the point of continuing to pretend that I didn’t have it. “Avatar hid it from you for a reason. He must have known or at least suspected that you weren’t to be trusted. I’d destroy it before I’d give it to you.”
“I cannot say I am terribly surprised to hear you say that,” Cole said. “We anticipated this would be your response. Unfortunately for you, we are always a few steps ahead of you. It is why we should be in possession of the Omega weapon rather than you. You simply cannot be trusted with it. You are too weak-minded and do not think far enough ahead. If the Sentinels do not take it from you and safeguard it, some Rogue, sooner or later, will wrest it from you. And they will not take it for the purpose of safeguarding it.
“Since you will not hand over the weapon voluntarily, I will instead offer you this quid pro quo: In exchange for you giving me the Omega weapon, I will in return give you Neha Thakore. Smoke, I believe her Heroic code name is. Descriptive, if unimaginative.”
My stomach rose to my throat. My fists involuntarily clenched. “What have you done to her?” I demanded. I wanted to squeeze the life out of him.
Cole smiled the smile of a child on Christmas Day.
“She is unhurt. Well, mostly. She resisted when we took her into custody. She is quite the spitfire, that one. Nonetheless, she is alive and mostly well. That will change if you do not produce the Omega weapon. You have until tonight. Come to the mansion. When you hand over the weapon, we will release Ms. Thakore to you.”
“After all you’ve done, why in the world should we believe you have Neha?” Isaac said. He looked as mad as I felt. “A murderer like you would have no problem lying too.”
Cole looked at Truman, shaking his head at Isaac’s words with mock regret. “So young, and yet so cynical.” He had the nerve to wink at Truman. “Perhaps there is hope for them yet.”
“More for them than for you,” Truman said.
Cole ignored that. “When I leave here, an email will be sent to Mr. Conley. Attached will be proof we have Ms. Thakore and that she is alive.”
I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach the Sentinels really had Neha. Why else hadn’t she gotten back to Isaac? I shook with frustration and anger. “If you hurt her—”
Cole cut me off. “You will do what?” He smiled at me indulgently, the way an adult would at a child. “Do not make threats you are completely incapable of carrying out. Oh, I have no doubt you and your friends here will mull over all kinds of plans once I leave as to how to rescue your friend while still retaining the Omega weapon. I am confident you will eventually decide to do the right thing, the only option available to you that will ensure the safety of your friend. You are thoroughly outclassed here, Mr. Conley. That is why you will do as I say and hand over the Omega weapon. Further, it is why you should hand over the Omega weapon. If the Sentinels do not take it from you, someone else surely will.
“The exchange will take place at Sentinels Mansion at ten p.m. sharp. Come alone, and be prepared to hand over the weapon. If you don’t . . .” He trailed off. He shrugged. “Such a pretty young thing, Ms. Thakore is. She has a promising career ahead of her as a Hero. It would be a shame if something happened to her.”
“And what of your attempt to kill Theo to force the Omega spirit into someone else?” Isaac said. “You expect us to believe you won’t still try to kill him the instant you have what you want?”
“I have discussed that matter with my colleagues,” Cole said, as if he were a banker thinking about offering a customer a lower interest rate. “We have decided that access to the Omega weapon will be all that we will need to protect the world. Once Mr. Conley gives it to us, he will be of no further interest to us.”
“And why should we believe you?” Isaac said. Scorn was in his voice. “Because of your sterling reputation for honesty and forthrightness?”
“If you wish to have your friend returned to you unharmed, what choice do you have but to trust me?” Cole said bluntly.
Cole turned as if he was going to walk out the door. He caught himself, snapped his fingers as if he remembered something, and turned back around.
“Oh, one more thing. I said before the electronics failed as a side effect of my astral presence here. That was a tiny bit of a white lie. The truth of the matter is that once I saw where I was, I dispatched one of the drones I have scattered around the city here. It hovers above this building as we speak. It is projecting a dampening field to prevent one of you from recording our lovely conversation.” He smiled broadly. I wished he was actually here in the flesh so I could punch his teeth down his throat. “Truman, that strikes me as being something you would be quick-witted enough to think to do. I would hate for the Guild to have evidence of my proposal. The members of the executive committee would be positively shocked to hear me threaten the life of a young Hero. I pride myself on protecting the innocent delusions of others.”
Cole smiled his smug smile. “As I said before, you are thoroughly outclassed. Do as I tell you to do, and all will be well.” He disappeared as abruptly and soundlessly as he had arrived.
Moments after he was gone, Truman’s lights flickered, and then came back on. If only I could get Neha back as easily. I slumped back into my chair, feeling sick to my stomach.
“We’ll check out the email that jackass mentioned,” Truman said. “In the meantime . . .” Truman pulled his hand out of the drawer he had put his gun back into. A small electronic recorder was in his fist. With my powers, I had sensed that Truman had picked the recorder up and clicked it on when he had put his gun back into the drawer. We listened to the playback. The sound shut off right after Cole had told Truman to put his gun away, when Truman’s computer and lights had shut off. The recorder had not captured anything incriminating.
Truman shut the recorder off in disgust. He looked like he wanted to throw i
t against the wall.
“So much for us having proof of the Sentinels holding your friend hostage,” he said. “Without more than just our say so, the Guild would never turn against the Sentinels. And certainly not—” He paused, looking embarrassed.
“You can say it,” I said. I was thoroughly deflated and despondent. I had the Omega weapon and Mechano had still made me feel as helpless as a baby. “And certainly not in time to save Neha.”
“Maybe they don’t really have her,” Isaac said, though he didn’t look like he believed his own words. He moved around Truman’s desk. “Let’s check out that email.”
Isaac turned Truman’s computer back on, and logged into my email account after I gave him my password. An email with “Neha Thakore” as the subject line had come into my inbox minutes before. We opened the email’s attachment. A soundless video began to play.
It showed Neha sitting in a simple wooden chair in a plain white room. My heart raced at the sight of her. She was in costume, just she had been when I had seen the nightclub footage of her in the Sentinels’ Situation Room. Her costume’s cowl had been pulled off her face; it dangled below the nape of her costumed neck. A gold-colored metal encircled her mouth and head, with some of the metal in her mouth. It looked like a futuristic ball gag. Her hands were behind her back, presumably bound there. Her ankles were secured to the chair with manacles made of the same metal that was around her head. The left side of her hair, normally straight and shoulder-length, was a mess of a bird’s nest. It was matted against her head with what appeared to be dried blood. Her face was bruised, with much of her skin mottled purplish-red rather than its usual olive color. There was a shiner on her right eye that would probably swell her eye shut in a few more hours.
On her lap was a newspaper, propped up against her torso so the video camera could see its front page. The video zoomed in on the newspaper. It was a copy of the Astor City Times bearing today’s date. I would have bet any amount of money that the use of the paper I worked for was a deliberate slap in my face.
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