CHAPTER 36: Thor and the Seahorse

Moonlight lay down a soft silver path for Overdrive Ostrich to wade through. Outside of the moon's influence, the metre-high blades of grass swayed and hissed like vipers. Crickets gossiped in the roots of their jungle. The dark air was soft and fragrant.

Overdrive stopped. "God, the outdoors suck. How did I ever stand it?"

Overdrive's company was incapable of answering him, but he gave the ostrich's feathery hand a quick squeeze.

Overdrive looked down at his charge, whose gaunt, down-covered head barely crested the silver grass bending around him. "Well, kiddo," Overdrive said, "You're probably the first human who's walked through here in quite some time. What do you think about that?"

No response.

"This particular bit of the Grasslands-well, see, humans threw some nukes around a bunch of years back, and then built cities as far away from the contamination as possible." Overdrive strained his eyes at the darkness around him. "They're a bit paranoid about going too far from their safe zones and into the blasted lands. You can't see or smell radiation, and you usually don't even know you're poisoned until your guts liquefy and come flying out both ends."

Nothing.

"I *think* you're safe, though," Overdrive said. "It's been a long, long time since the war, and Nature has her ways of cleaning house. I think the humans are just scared of spectres. Know what, though? That's for the best. Humans leave filth everywhere they live, everywhere they walk, even when they don't mean to. If there are some spots in the world that they're afraid to touch, that is perfectly okay."

Overdrive looked down at the boy beside him. "No offense meant, Rover. I don't know if you still count as a human, anyway."

Rover, whose parents had once called him "Paul," split his lips in a grimace. He made a sound that resembled the snarl of a wolf puppy, but Overdrive already knew that it was the boy's way of smiling and laughing.

The Maverick grasped Paul under his arms and scooped him up so that he could see the expanse of the grass ocean that breathed around them.

"Everything the light touches will be your kingdom," Overdrive cackled. "'Course, there's not much light around right this minute, but maybe we can arrange for you to inherit *something.* Wait 'til you see our fortress and meet Phoenix. I think she'll love you."

Overdrive paused and considered. "I mean, I think she'll love you once she gets used to you, like I did."

Overdrive tried to pinpoint the exact moment he'd become fond of Rover. He believed he'd started unthawing shortly after the two had fled the sewers and began making their way back to Doppler's old fortress. The only thing Rover had owned at the time was his birthday suit, which fit him as handsomely as dirty tarp stretched over tent poles. Overdrive, knowing that he'd attract all sorts of ugly attention by default of being a recognizable Maverick with a young mutant human as an accessory, had made it a priority to find some cast-off clothing for the kid.

It was an easy hunt, given the spoiled tendencies of the humans living in the subdivision wherein he'd surfaced with Rover. Now the boy was draped almost down to his knees in an oversized shirt. It was clean, though Overdrive had found it in a trash bin. Nevertheless, he still couldn't make any sense of the faded logo on the shirt's front: he had no idea what it meant to be "Tragically Hip," and he wasn't going to waste any time trying to puzzle it out.

When Overdrive had thrust the shirt at Rover with a gruff "Here," the boy had looked at him with such tenderness that the Maverick's interior bolts shook a little. He read a message in that glance, clear as glass though Rover was unable to give voice to it: _You have provided for me, and now I will follow you._

And Overdrive had suddenly started feeling friendly towards the boy. He also guessed Rover was mere inches away from speaking, though he was still a baby, and therefore had no business talking.

Not that he had any business walking, pondering, or studying Overdrive with those green wild-wolf eyes of his, either.

"Jeepers Christmas, Torrent," Overdrive muttered up to the moonlight. He dragged his palm down the top of his beak. "What have you made out of this boy? What's your major malfunction?"

Overdrive knew the answer, of course: his mentor was certifiably insane. Toys in the attic, truly gone fishing, and the rest of it.

Worst of all, Torrent had a plan.

"Oh, he has a plan, all right," Overdrive whispered to Rover, a habit he'd picked up after weeks of writhing in Torrent's shadow. "Lord love us all, he has a plan. That's why we're here. That's why he let us go."

Overdrive had decided that he'd had enough of Torrent Leviathan's abuse and general insanity. He summoned his remaining scraps of courage and cornered Torrent in his filthy den to tell the Mechadrake that he was going home-and that Rover, Overdrive's long-intended gift for Phoenix, was going with him.

Torrent, who had been dozing, had lifted his head from his bare, stinking mattress to blink at Overdrive, then at the mutant boy beside him.

"Suit yourself," he grunted before turning his back at them. "You want to get yourself mixed up in what's going on above? Go on."

_Dammit,_ Overdrive seethed inwardly. He was being baited, as usual, but at least it was for the last time.

"Torrent. Since I got here, you've treated me like something that floats through your canals. So do me this one small kindness, and then I'll eff off for the rest of your miserable life. What is going on above ground?"

Torrent bounced his response off the wall. "You ever read _The Hobbit?_"

"Yeah," Overdrive said. "Some Mavericks refuse to touch human literature on principle, but that's idiotic. It makes good sense to dissect everything that the enemy holds dear, in case you can use their affections against them in some way."

Overdrive was also very fond of the banter between Bilbo Baggins and Smaug the dragon, but he decided Torrent didn't need to know that.

"Aren't you deep," Torrent said. "So you remember the gathering of the Five Armies at the end of the story, correct?"

"Well, yeah. What's that got to do with affairs on the surface?"

"Oh, figure it out, you bloody fool!" Torrent shot up again, his eyes blazing. "The Inheritors of Eden-the Questing Beasts-Ange the werewolf-and that _thing_ standing next to you. It's all part of the same beautiful chaos, and _I_ orchestrated it! Now get out. Get out and play your part!"

Overdrive had no idea what "his part" entailed, but he was perfectly content to play it out from the thick safety of the Maverick's fortress. At least it was far, far away from Torrent, and it was air-conditioned.

Sometimes.

"Let's go home, Rover. All right?"

"Move, move, move!" Cass the Badger bellowed at the sludge of human traffic that slithered slowly, much too slowly, through the wide suburban streets and over to the idling buses that would take them to safety.

Intelligence had been very clear: the Mavericks, the Questing Beasts, were not far behind, and they intended to lay waste to Torrisham Crossings.

_Too many people. Too slow. Not enough buses._

X stood across from Cass, on the other side of the street. The humans walked five abreast, though their progress was anything but orderly. It was the usual scramble and desperate din, the usual snarls and snaps that arose from anger and pain, and the usual smells of nervous, scared humans and their domesticated animals, though they had been told (over and over) that the Refugee Camp had no space for them.

X was so desensitised to the entire bedlam that he actually ran his hand down his face and phased out to try and remember why Torrisham Crossings seemed so familiar.

"Good morning, X!" Cass roared from across the way. "Wake up! I need you with me. Incoming!"

The badger's last word was meant to make X aware of a pale, wild-haired human who was thrashing through the human current to reach X. "Pardon, pardon, pardon," the man gasped over and over as his neighbours' eyes speared him with poisonous daggers. "My son! Help my-"

_Oh Lordy,_ X thought, but he held out a hand to help the man stumble up and over the curb. "What's the problem, sir?"

"My son," the man panted. He held one spidery hand against his heaving chest. He-he's missing. Please help me find him."

X put his hand on the man's shoulder. "I doubt he's come to any harm. He probably just got caught up in the crowd. I'll get some of my Hunters to help you search." X touched the side of his helmet to put out the call.

The man barked "No!" and when X regarded him in surprise, he reddened. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking down at the trampled greenery beneath them. "I'll level with you. I-don't trust reploids. Sorry. I'm so sorry. I just don't."

"I'm a reploid, sir," X said dryly. "In case it slipped your notice."

"You're different," the man stated, as if X was supposed to hold that as automatic knowledge. "I see you on the news all the time. I _know_ you. I want you to help me, not the others."

"Well, the evacuation is routine from this point out-all right. I'll help." X made eye contact with Cass. "Cass. Follow me," he called.

"No," the man barked. X looked at the man sharply, who licked his dry lips and added, "Just you. Come on."

"I don't think so, sir," X said slowly. "Cass is my partner in this mission, and he's one of my most trusted lieutenants. He's coming along."

The man was obviously getting ready to raise another protest, but Cass had already worked his way through the crowd. He brushed off his big paws, balled them up, and jammed them against his hips. "Well?"

"This gentleman has lost his boy in the crowd," X said. "We're going to help find him."

"Perfect," Cass rumbled. He looked at the human. "Where do you think your son ran off to? Did he have any favourite places to play?"

The human gave Cass a dark look and stuffed his hands in his jeans' pockets. "When we were preparing to evacuate, Thor said he wanted to play one last time in the park," he mumbled. "Maybe he's there."

"'Thor,'" Cass parroted. He smiled. "Hell of a name. All right, let's go to the park."

The park was at the centre of the neighbourhood. It was surrounded by gentle hills, and what had once been (X supposed) lush greenery. Before the trio even wandered into the playground area, they glanced uncomfortably at the grass; the grounds had been kept short all summer, and it was impossible not to notice that they were criss-crossed with plasma burns.

Cass muttered under his breath about the place looking like a scene out of "That one old movie about the robots taking over the world-not the first one, mind, but its sequel. I liked that one." The human looked at the badger nervously.

X pictured the neighbourhood kids laughing and riding their bikes to the once-lively hub to run, climb, and play baseball. All at once he felt very heavy.

The trio crested the last hill that separated the park from the playground. The playground was seemingly a lonesome place with a smattering of plastic-coated equipment that had been made dull by years of exposure to sun, wind, trampling feet, and grasping hands.

But X's instincts screamed that the playground _wasn't_ deserted, and his head automatically swiveled to the jungle gym on the right side of the sandy lot.

Toxic Eagle, one of the Mavericks' Questing Beasts, stared back at him from atop the gymboree like a bird of prey balanced on a pile of bones.

"Shit!" Cass barked, his hand flying backwards to reach for his mace. "It's a trap!"

Toxic Eagle turned his hateful stare from X to the man trembling beside him. "I told you to bring X and no-one else, human," the hybrid said hollowly. "I see X, but I also see that big idiot badger. Now your boy dies."

"I tried, I tried," the man sobbed. "Please-"

"Oh for Christ's sweet sake," Cass said as he brandished his weapon. "X-"

Desperation and frustration threw energy into X's limbs, and suddenly he was pelting down the hill and towards Toxic Eagle with more fury than he ever knew he had. But this new energy was blood-red, scalding. With a flash of dull surprise and dread, X realised he had every intention of killing the Maverick, and his conscience couldn't stop him any more than a lasso could stop a runaway train.

Toxic Eagle's long-snouted face remained blank, but X saw the hybrid rear back his head in surprise before he took wing. X's boots threw up waves of sand as he skidded to a halt bare centimetres from the jungle gym. Toxic Eagle hovered for a second and seemed to consider something. Then he gathered himself and darted over to another tangle of park equipment. The hybrid was especially interested in an orange plastic tube that was elevated between two graffiti-scrawled blocks of wood and draped with webs of knotted rope.

X's breath escaped his chest in savage rasps. He had an idea of what was stowed in that tube. He looked back at the hill and the human who'd brought them there. He looked very pale and very small next to Cass, but when he saw Toxic Eagle settle on the tube, he jumped. Cass automatically grabbed a handful of the Man's collar and said, "No."

_Good boy, Cass,_ X thought grimly. When he looked back at Toxic Eagle, the Maverick drew himself to his full height. "I wasn't bluffing about the boy, X," he hissed, his words matching his serpentine stature exactly. He stamped a clawed foot on the waxy orange tube. "I'll gut him if you come any closer."

The wild horses got into X again and trampled all rational thought. He bolted at Toxic Eagle, whose eyes registered disbelief before they hardened again. He drove his head into the open end of the tube, like a bird hunting some insect wriggling in a tree hollow.

Of course, Toxic Eagle's drive to keep his word was his mistake-as was the fact that he'd forgotten to mind his tail. The appendage, green as new grass, dangled over the smooth curve of the orange tube. X leapt and seized it.

Toxic Eagle's rusty squawk was still echoing in the tube even as the rest of him spilled on the sand in a mangy tangle. X hung onto the beast's tail with both hands. Toxic Eagle thrashed his tail, but the Hunter clasped onto both handfuls with iron strength.

"Then we'll fight where we stand," Toxic Eagle declared.

X smiled without humour. "I'll fight where I stand. You're gonna be fighting where you sit."

"Clever," Toxic Eagle hissed. He beat his ratty blue wings and kicked up a miniature sandstorm that made X wince. He also gained enough height to pull his body back and throw one of his taloned feet in X's face.

The crimson pain of the predator's claws carving furrows in his sand-flecked face was enough to make X drop Toxic Eagle's tail. He threw up his hands to try and peel the Maverick off him, but the blind, chaotic pressure couldn't be pushed away.

Every receptor in X's body vibrated with the furious need to draw his cannon and blast, but he leashed his compulsion; he wasn't positive he could fire a shot without also melting the tube-and the kid inside-into orange slag. Then there was the issue of shooting himself in the face by accident. Yes, that was a very real possibility. Despite the pain of having a Maverick shred his skin like a cat working at tree bark, some dim, still part of X was relieved to know that his common sense hadn't fled him entirely.

X's world suddenly suffered a violent jerk, and two things happened at once: his shoulder hit the ground with a powdery thud, and Toxic Eagle's claws detached from his face. X heard a squeal of pain beside him, and then a war cry exploded from a broad badger throat. He sighed in relief and allowed himself to close his eyes for a few precious seconds. He absorbed the muffled percussion of Cass running across the sand, hunting his quarry.

Then X collected himself and leapt to his feet.

Toxic Eagle was flying, or at least he was trying to; one of his wings had been smashed, and dangled at his side as a jumble of metal, feathers, and wire. He was trying to get airborne with his good wing, but could only manage getting a little height on a succession of sick hops.

Cass followed behind at a stroll, his mace slung over one shoulder. Cass was big, but slow; he typically caught a quick, lithe opponent off guard, crippled him with a heavy blow, and stalked the remains until the finish.

Of course, Toxic Eagle's days of speed were long gone.

X said, "Cass-"

"In a minute, in a minute," Cass said, but then burst forward with another war-cry and a heavy swing of his mace. Toxic Eagle threw one arm up and managed a choked "I-" before the mace thudded against his narrow skull. The hybrid shuddered and collapsed.

"Out cold," Cass said before X could ask. "Not dead. Shouldn't be too hard to get info out of him."

"He surrendered, Cass," X said, turning to meet the human who was flying down the hill towards them. "You didn't have to bash his brains in."

"Hell with that," Cass snarled, placing one foot on Toxic Eagle's skull. "When this dickweed was perched on those monkey bars like-like the King of Creation, I saw the look in your eyes. I saw how you ran at him when he threatened to kill that boy."

"Thor!" the man from the hill cried. He galloped up next to the Hunters. "Thor!-is he-"

X was already mounting the equipment that cradled the orange tube. His head buzzed with concern for the boy, but he also felt a kind of synthetic nausea over Cass's insubordination. He'd have to discipline the badger. The big guy was sorry, surely he was sorry-

_I saw the look in your eyes._

_I don't trust Reploids. I'm sorry. I don't._

"Goat rodeo," X said with a sigh that started at his toes. He looked in the tube. "Thor?"

Indeed, a boy who looked to be about 12 was curled up inside, like a human seed at the start of gestation. He unfolded at the sound of X's voice. The sunlight beating down on the tube loaned an orange wild-animal tint to his stare.

X offered a hand. "You're safe now. Your father's here with us."

"X," the boy whispered, extending his own paw, which was swallowed by X's hand. "You're X."

X smiled a little in embarrassment. "I suppose I am, though it's hard to tell. I got a bit clawed up. Are you hurt?"

"No," said Thor, though when X pulled him into the sunlight, it was made obvious that the boy had wet himself. When he saw that X had noticed, he turned crimson. "I'm sorry. He didn't hurt me, but I was scared."

"It's all right, Thor."

"It's _not!_" Thor burst out. "I've dreamed of meeting you since I was a kid, and what happens? I go and piss myself." He hiccuped, then bit back the sobs that were hitching up his chest. "Hell with it. What's it matter? What's it matter?"

X pulled Thor into a hug and let the boy rest his hot cheek against his cool armor. Thor took deep breaths and began to settle as X stroked his long black hair once, twice.

"I love you," Thor said. Then he pulled away, flicked a shy but honest glance at X, and leapt off the playground equipment to join his father.

X put one hand on the tube that had been Thor's prison. Suddenly, he experienced a very clear memory that was more sensation than sound or vision: once, he'd pressed his finger against the creamy palm of a human newborn, and that baby had immediately gripped him with surprising strength, and without prejudice.

And then X heard Zero's voice from somewhere inside him. _No matter what, never forget that you fight for them. They're not perfect, but they're worth protecting._

"X, this guy wants to talk to you," Cass called up while gesturing at the man and his boy.

"All right," X said, following Thor's lead by jumping down to the sand. "We'll need to escort you two back to the evacuation area, anyway."

Father and son walked silently, hand-in-hand, while X reprimanded Cass for his earlier behaviour in low but sturdy tones. The badger, who had the limp body of Toxic Eagle draped over his shoulders, was sullen. However, he didn't interrupt X.

Thor's father said, "Excuse me-er-X?"

X held up a hand to halt Cass; they were close enough to the evacuation scene to hear its buzz. "What is it, sir?"

The man moved his eyes up and down X's battered frame and bloody face, then looked at the ground again and mumbled, "That flying guy hurt you pretty bad."

"Some shallow scratches. Nothing serious."

"Either way, you bloodied yourself up to rescue my son, and I appreciate it more than you'll know." The man paused awkwardly. "The trap-I'm sorry about the trap. That guy grabbed Thor and told me-"

"I can guess what he told you," X said. "And it was worth this and more. You have a special kid there, sir. Please take care of him."

"I will."

"Anyway," X continued, "I knew you were in serious need of a Hunter when you asked me to _help_ your son. Then you changed your story and said he was lost." X smiled lopsidedly. "Nice cover."

The man smiled in turn, finally. "I was praying you'd pick up on that," he said. "What I really wanted to tell you, though, is that I have some information that you might find useful. In return for helping us, see."

"Oh? What?"

The man hesitated, then said, "You Hunters are looking for a renegade female Reploid, right? One who stole a baby from a woman?"

X nearly choked. The situation with Iris wasn't public information. "I'm afraid you have it wrong, sir. There's nothing like that going on."

"Oh, sorry," the man said. "Guess I was mistaken. But let's say, for the sake of fun, you all _were_ looking for such a Reploid girl." The man scratched under his nose. "I might have heard something from a friend of a friend about a Reploid girl taking refuge with a human family in the Black Hawkway subdivision that's not far from here."

"I see," X said slowly. He continued walking without looking at the human.

"I might've also heard something about that Reploid girl staying with Reploid rights activists who have vowed to harbour her, and fight for her, if it comes to that."

"Huh."

"Listen, X," the man said. "I'm not a Hunter. Never will be. But if I was, I might suggest that we all scour Black Hawkway before a Maverick attack scrambles things up over there. You know?"

X nodded. "I know."

"All right." The man looked mournfully at the line of idling buses that X was leading the party to. "All that all said, I guess we should focus on getting used to our new...home."