by Mark Gardner
“Because of today. Because you came.”
Massey rubbed his tired eyes. “The last time we met, you got me drunk and stole sensitive information about Joaquin. I got a headache from that experience so forgive me if I don’t want a repeat.”
Anne slumped down on a white leather chair opposite Massey. “Oh please. I extracted that info in the least painful way. And I needed it at the time.” She shrugged. “Different days, different foes.”
Massey let the quiet that fell between them settle him. He needed his head clear. He grabbed another wrapped chair and slumped into it, his shoulders relaxing. “I did come because of what happened today in that park. That was his business, right? Miles Jensen?”
Anne wore an unblinking mask up until that moment. Massey saw it slip off of her features. Anne looked angry and tired, too. “I had no part in that. I didn’t know he was going to use civilians to further his campaign against supers. Jensen is not one of his super-powered bodyguards, not as far as I know.”
“If that information goes viral people will step down, they’ll shun their votes. Globe will be brought from his high seat in cuffs.”
Anne shook her head. “Law and justice won’t work here, Frank. You can’t just go up to Globe and arrest him. Any evidence you have against him, he’ll deny and with a good alibi. He’s well-connected. This has to happen our way.”
Massey shook his head, fearing the truth in her words. He could picture it vividly in his mind, a whole city ablaze and his hands idle at the rising threat, the badge and the gun no longer stirring fear into the heart of the enemy. War was written on Anne’s face, and it softened only a fraction when she peered at Frank. He took that opportunity and fueled his own distress, his own fury. His city wasn’t going to burn if he could do something, anything about it.
Fragile Destiny
“By our way, you mean the supers’ way? Fighting with goddamn superpowers! Do you understand how much damage that will cause to this city, to its people? Do you even care?”
Anne rose purposefully from her chair and pointed a finger at him. She moved with such unhinged ferocity that Massey flinched from an invisible blow. “That’s how war has always been fought. Don’t you presume to sit down and teach me the history of war! I’ve lived through them all. I know the stakes, I know the price!”
He focused on Anne’s hips as she rounded the counter, her long legs carrying her aimlessly through the constricted space. Massey didn’t know much about her; just skin-crawling tidbits and what they shared in their foreboding encounters. The woman before him was a complete stranger, with tendencies of fiery passion. The way she stood with her frame dipped in shadow and only partial bleak light, she looked every bit the many-faced goddess of rebirth. Massey slumped back, defeated by her presence. He wondered, with a faint stupid smile on his lips, whether somewhere in time someone had worshiped her as a goddess. He wasn’t even referring to symbolism. She’d been someone’s mother, wife, and sister. He wondered what a palmist would make of her lifeline...if he believed in that sort of thing. She was a warrior, and even though that aspect of her character had been asleep for thousands of years, it was awake now. The idea of an immortal watching human history and playing her role gave him vertigo. Massey spoke softly, knowing he had nothing to shield from her. “I understand what you’re saying. I can’t walk in your shoes, and I don’t claim to understand this centuries ongoing war that you’ve been fighting. I’m trying to figure it all out, why after all this time supers are suddenly out there in the open spilling blood or why it’s happening right after Globe made his speech. But, Anne, desire makes a damaging war. You reminisce of a different age with different rules. You can’t just burn the entire city to flush out one rat and his tails. People will get hurt, innocent people, and I can’t allow that.”
Anne glared at Massey, a hot flame dancing in her eyes. “I know how this world works, Frank. I’ve fought for it many times. I will fight again. War is war, and it’s bloody no matter what. I called you here because I need friends. I can’t do this alone. If we’re smart about it, no innocents will be hurt.”
Massey nodded in agreement.
Anne continued, “Globe is planning something massive. It’s already in motion. He has a team of supers working under his influence—”
Massey interrupted, “You mean against their will.”
Anne ignored him, “He’s tracking down more supers, bringing them in and using them for some sort of experiment. They never leave his laboratory.”
Massey, deep in thought, stared at Anne. “His laboratory... Does he keep you privy to what happens there?”
Anne shook her head. “Only as much as he needs to.” She sighed. “Frank, he has Kristof and Peter strapped down in that lab. Whatever he’s doing, it’s connected to them both.”
“What would your guess be?”
“If he wipes out all of the supers he’s clear of any danger of them rising against him. But it’s more than that. I think Globe wants to install a new world order. His supers, his genetics. New powers mean new dangers. He’ll rule over us all.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Anne. Why didn’t you stop him before all this started? You have power.”
Anne cocked her head to the side. Her eyes seemed to lose focus as if she remembered a long ago event.
“Anne?” Massey whispered.
“It’s not that simple. I can’t harm him, not while so many supers surround him. I need to take them out one at a time, remove them from his grasp.” Like a light flicked on, she was back in the moment, released from a fog. “I need Joaquin, and I need you with the SPD.”
“I trust a few officers, they’ll help. But the feds are obviously on his payroll, “ Massey replied.
“Figures. They’ll keep a close watch on you… But there are ways to do things off the radar.”
“I’m a cop, Anne. I do things by the book.”
Anne shook her head, golden locks falling over her olive eyes. “I’ve known hundreds of men like Globe. They don’t fall on their back without a fight, and that fight is dirty, quick and unexpected. ‘By the book’ isn’t an option and it isn’t smart.”
Massey spread his hands in surrender. “What’ve you got?”
Anne smiled. “I’ve been working on something. Something underground. First, I need your assurance that Joaquin is prepared.”
Massey sighed. “Lord knows the boy is eager to be a soldier. This fight is his too, but I don’t want him to get hurt.”
Anne blinked. “He can’t get hurt. Literally.”
“I know, I know. I just want him to have a normal life.”
“He can’t. And why should he? He’s of an ancient lineage that has succeeded in great things, and he’s just discovering what his capabilities are. You can’t stop him from exploring. He’ll make the best choice for himself. Eventually. You need to trust him on that...whatever his choice is.”
Massey narrowed his eyes at her. “You sound like one of them.”
Anne smirked. “Those are just the facts, darling. Joaquin is a very special boy, and I need him in my corner. So is he ready?”
Massey nodded, rubbing his temples where a headache had started to build. “Yeah, he is.”
Anne paused, and Massey figured she was deciding whether to trust him with another secret. He didn’t need his years of training in observation to know that this secret was dear to her.
“As long as there are supers in this city, Globe will grow strong. We need to lead them away to somewhere safe.”
Massey raised his hands in defeat. “How? There are probably thousands of supers in this city. How would you find them and convince them to leave?”
“That’s why I need you. The old subway tunnels would do the job. I can secure a boat, too. I just need the means to find them before Globe does.”
Massey chuckled, fingers lazily rubbing against his stubble. “I think I may know someone who can help us with that.”
“Who are you?”
Joaquin
blinked at the woman’s squinting eyes and the stern expression on her face. She shifted her hands behind her back to hide something. Joaquin allowed a wide grin and took a step back from the door. “Frank told me to wait for someone.” He paused and allowed his eyes to roam over the petite woman from head to toe. “How do I know you’re the one I’m waiting for?”
The woman sighed and brought whatever she was hiding behind her back into plain sight. “Let me guess,” she declared, an amused rise in the corner of her lips, “Frank had to step out, so you got stuck waiting for this.” She waved a thick envelope at Joaquin, and let it thump on a table adorning the entryway.
“So,” she continued after glancing at Joaquin, “who’re you with? CIA, FBI, NSA, DHS? Detective Frank Massey has lots of friends in a variety of federal offices.” Her eyes focused on his right eyebrow. “He also has contacts in other organizations.” She winked. “Street organizations...”
Joaquin’s smile fell. The blonde woman nodded as if he’d confirmed her suspicions. “Well, uh, I...” he stammered.
She held up a hand, palm toward Joaquin. “Save it; I don’t want to know.”
Joaquin looked over his shoulder and back to the woman. “What’s your name?”
She smiled. “Just let Frank know that all the information and ancillary content he wanted is in the package.” She gestured toward the envelope balanced precariously on the edge of the table.
“Okay, uh, Betty, er, I mean, Officer Patterson.”
She smirked and turned to exit the foyer back to the street. Her pleasant smile faded when she saw a black Ford Explorer with dark tinted windows parallel parked across the street. Joaquin followed her gaze, and he noticed the slight distortion coming from the tailpipe. Whoever it was, they left the motor running. The vehicle suddenly pulled into the street and sped away. Betty and Joaquin watched it disappear, noting the government license plate.
Betty tightened her jacket and turned back into Frank’s apartment. She met Joaquin’s eyes with a cold determination that made him swallow audibly. “Tell Frank that I don’t know what he’s gotten himself into, but he needs to watch his back.” She reached over and pushed the envelope further on the table. “I did this for him because I deeply respect him and believe he’s a good man. But he needs to keep me out of whatever trouble he’s stirring up – or trying to put an end to. I want no part of an operation where spooks watch what’s going on.”
She turned and stepped across the threshold. She looked left and then right, before another glance over her shoulder at Joaquin. She descended the stairs and headed down the sidewalk opposite from the direction the black SUV went. She looked as if she hadn’t a care in the world, but Joaquin knew better.
He was certain that his destiny and Frank’s were intertwined, and so very fragile. One mistake could end them both. Possibly even the world.
Globe eased the clinically white door open just a crack to see enough of the room through the breach. Bree was quiet for most of the afternoon after she demanded that she’d rather stay in her room and play. He could have checked on her through the surveillance monitors, but a part of him played the parenting role. That role required him to stop by now and then to make sure Bree was happy; wasn’t bored; wanted or didn’t want something, and so much more. He would never admit it to anyone, but even though it would’ve put a severe curtail on his grand plans, he yearned for a family of his own.
Globe’s eyes scanned the pink-painted walls; the random drawings pinned here and there, and the soft, plush carpet. He let out a breath. Such innocence, he thought as he braved the door ajar some more. Bree was asleep in her bed; Mr. Puss was tightly tucked under one uncovered arm. She looked peaceful, her face calm, her hair messy. Just like any other child. He wondered what such a unique little girl dreamed of or whether she dreamed at all. What wayward house did her unconscious mind build for her to inhabit? Did her power span her waking hours and the adjoining world beyond the veil? He tentatively entertained the idea of plugging sensors to her temples to allow himself the privy of observing what exactly she dreamed of. His lips stretched to a small smile in an unconscious response to his own lunacy and a laugh nearly escaped his clenched throat. His curiosity of her nature drove him to cast those other poor children into a permanent comatose state. They were poor, miserable souls, weren’t they? Globe stilled himself, the creeping tentacles of regret bouncing off of his unshakable determination. He knew well enough what must be done and what their sacrifice by his hands meant. He couldn’t help imagining Bree watching over those children and their bouncy frolicking in a shared consciousness. He scowled at his vapid optimism. Such vain attempts to staunch his guilt were beneath him.
A nagging voice crept into his consciousness, telling him he should tuck her in and make sure she was safe. As he reached to pull the blanket, the notion disappeared as quickly as it had come. Globe recoiled from the drastic change, his mind fighting between paralysis and worry. He soon felt it was a sensation of fear—and that made him feel vulnerable. The room, despite its bright colors, was quick to give him discomfort. It was cold and unnatural, a pretend version of happiness and calm. His eyes showed him normalcy, but his mind saw it differently, and that betrayed the illusion.
In Bree’s room, the weight of his plans suffocated him. Outside Bree’s room, outside, he was certain. There was no room for questions.
He backed slowly out of the room and closed the white door. It was never locked, allowing Bree to roam free across the entire floor. Though it connected to his office with ease, Globe had had the rest of it isolated, creating just the single white door in the middle of a corridor full of empty rooms. Bree accepted it as a playground devoid of grownups, but to Globe it had always been a precautionary prison: out of reach to people other than him.
The sudden vibration of his phone in his pocket jarred him from his thoughts. He fished it out and hazarded a glance at the wildly blinking screen. Then he ran down the corridor, desperate for the elevator to take him down to the lab.
A harsh red light in the laboratory blinded him when stepped through the doors as he rushed past lab assistants, engineers, and other personnel. Major Globe was on the precipice of a dire failure he’d feared could happen, yet he’d hoped to avoid. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his frayed nerves, but the erratic throbbing throughout the building, in his temples, only increased. The flicker of the alert light turned his skin hotter than it already was and he ground his teeth, feeling the pressure of tooth on tooth scratch at his skull.
“Will someone turn that off?” he demanded to no one in particular.
The clinical calm typically present in the lab returned. Globe’s workers tried to compose themselves. The low-frequency sound disappeared with a soft buzz. Globe opened his eyes, blinking at the blue-white light that returned to calm his heated head.
Globe glared at the transparent tube where Peter motionlessly floated. What normally illuminated the super within was now eerily dark. The data on the screen in front of him flashed, “alert,” “system down,” and “reboot unavailable.” It had been working like a clock, timed and measured to tick in a precise rhythm that promised to deliver outstanding results within weeks. Now it had suffered a step back and not a small one.
He tried to calculate the new timetable. His gaze was unfocused, and he looked nowhere in particular, lost in thought while his fingers clenched into fists. He needed time to understand whether the experiment had suffered a recoverable overdose on the cocktail of drugs designed to keep Peter alive. Perhaps the substance had been muddied, weakened. He needed to know if this project was completely lost or just halted.
His stare wandered to a matching tank, and his brows furrowed. He knew it had come from Kristof; the computer said as much. It was just a light stir, a brief, but weak spark. The vital signs of his reluctant hero were the source of the power surge that had transferred to Peter’s chamber and short-circuited it. They had nearly lost Peter, and now his vitals were so low it was impossible to con
tinue the experiment. Worse than that, his power had been depleted. Globe shifted his attention to the third pod in the room. He’d threatened Anne into compliance so many times with it. Could it be used to fix Peter’s malfunctioning pod?
A lab assistant babbled at him, reiterating things that Globe already knew. The assistant tried to explain how the team was taking a manual sample to test. How from the moment the accident had happened the test results had begun to decrease in purity, efficiency and strength. How they’d had to temporarily disconnect Kristof from the equation for fear his DNA structure would dominate and destroy the results. Globe’s fist came down on the table, scaring the lab assistant, and he pounded it until the skin on his knuckles broke and began to bleed. He smacked the monitor and grabbed a handful of cables and pulled at them, ripping them apart from whatever sockets they were attached to. He hurled the bundle of cables on the floor in a heap. In his fury, he flipped the table and kicked a rolling chair. The assistant cowered and hugged the tablet he held with a death grip. Everyone else stopped and stared. Some had the sense to hide it, but not all of them.
When he was done with his tantrum, his fingers ached, and his heart pounded so wildly, he thought it might burst right through his chest. He turned his attention to the lab personnel all standing still, confused as to what to do, but no one dared to look him in the eye. His anger rose with his voice.
“Don’t you have work to do? Fix this damned error now! If we lose Peter, there will be consequences.”
As they made themselves busy, Globe found the cowering assistant watching him carefully, fright written on his face.
“Did you say this was an accident?” Globe demanded, taking a step closer.
