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Chapter 16: Séance
Brick didn't go far.
The abandoned prison's walls were bleached white with salt and seagull shit. It didn't smell much better. The infamous island dungeon was closed to tourists today, but that didn't stop a colony of oafish sea lions from soaking up sun on the shore. Brick watched them from his perch on the roof of the complex, still barefoot in this morning's soiled T-shirt and sweatpants. A large, corpulent male barked at nothing at all. Maybe the wind. Maybe the oblivious females sleeping soundly all around him. Maybe he had nothing else to do.
Years ago, this prison used to house some of the country's most notorious criminals. They would watch the tides rise and fall and the sea lions come and go while they wasted away behind bars. And just a couple miles across the barren blue lay the bright lights and white sails of the Citiesville marina bustling with life. To be a bulbous sea lion and brave the waters, or a nimble pelican and soar through the skies—how many had sat where Brick sat now and dreamed of that freedom? How many had heard the morning fish markets, the trolley klaxons, the cheerful voices on the breeze and wondered how loud they would need to scream to be heard back? Maybe not so loud. It wasn't that far.
But there were sharks lurking in the undertow, and normal men couldn't fly. There was no escaping this place. There was no escaping what lay barely out of reach, either. Brick wondered which was worse. Going back was about as appealing as a prostate exam. Staying would mean eternal banishment and also one hell of a sunburn. He wished he had his old hat. He wished he hadn't come out here at all. He wished he'd gone farther, and he wished he'd never left at all.
By now, Butch had probably gotten treatment. He was probably already up and playing Super cop with Buttercup because he had nothing else to do. Boomer was more likely moping while putting on a brave face. The guy was so goddamned gloomy, but at least he was consistent.
Brick tongued his back molars. They'd all come in perfectly, and there was no trace of blood or ruin left. His migraine was gone, his concussion had receded, and his hangover was barely a bad dream. The magic of Chemical X—like none of it had ever happened at all.
Below, the male sea lion puffed out his chest and barked again. Brick watched him waddle about on patrol, his head bobbing and his black eyes huge and glistening, alert to rivals and predators while his harem slept and ignored his posturing completely. Fucking exhausting. All that effort, and for what?
"So pointless," he muttered, but the wind carried his words away.
No one was coming.
Not to challenge the virile sea lion, and not to drag Brick back. No one even knew he was out here. The fish markets hawked, the trolleys blared their klaxons, and oblivious voices prattled the day away. And somewhere in the fathoms below, silky shadows bided their time.
Brick jumped down to the ground and stripped his T-shirt off. Dozing sea lions honked and scrambled out of his way as he marched to the water's edge and dove in without a second thought. The sea was freezing and stung his eyes, and his body seized up with the instinct to curl up and hibernate like a beetle. Salt soured his tongue when he opened his mouth to breathe, and his lungs yearned to scream, to shriek at the murky depths below and call forth something real and fighting, just to see if it would rise to the challenge. The current was strong against him. He could no longer feel his arms pumping, numb to the salty sea as thick as viscera. Men had made this baptismal swim before, their lives in the balance and their freedom a mile and a half away. Men who had nothing left to lose. The cold weighed like anchors with each stubborn stroke. Only frozen things lived here, thrived here down in the deep, dark abyss, lightless and listless and utterly ignorant of the sky above except for what suffered to fall from it.
But Brick didn't fall. He might stumble, might debauch himself, might have nothing left waiting for him on the other side because all he knew about love was how to burn it to the fucking ground.
But he didn't fall.
Gravity could not stop him, and the sky was no limit. Scarlet power dispelled the dreary depths and rocketed him high. Maybe if those poor dead fuckers before him could fly, they would have made it out to walk among the ashes of their deeds. Or maybe they would have sunk deeper into the blue where not even the devil can follow.
Brick left the thought behind as he blasted back to his apartment, shivering and itching under a layer of fine salt. He let himself inside through the porch sliding door and recoiled at the stale stench of dry vomit and booze that greeted him. Broken glass crunched under his bare feet and crumbled to dust. Shriveled dandelion petals guided his path from the kitchen to the living room, where he stood at the epicenter of his old life. Sea water haloed beneath his feet and seeped into the soiled, white rug, congealing among the glass shards until they glowed like cinders. He closed his eyes and listened for ghosts, but none visited. Even his demons had abandoned him.
"Right," he said in a drowned voice.
Sinking to his knees, he gathered empty bottles and brittle fragments in his arms and ferried them to the kitchen trash can. He made three laps before the bin became overfull, so he grabbed a new bag from under the sink and filled it up too. Cleaning products and sponges fit with a familiar weight in his ascetic hands as he scrubbed, rinsed, and scrubbed again, until the rug and walls were cleansed of last night's depravity. He wiped down the counters, mopped the floors, and beat the sofa cushions to within an inch of their lives. Lemon verbena and bleach clung to the walls and invaded the cracks between the floorboards and under his fingernails. But last night still rotted in his throat.
The bathroom came next. Brushes and bristles, Comet and chlorine. The natural, stone floor eroded beneath his relentless hands and the glass shower door glistened until it screamed. He tossed his salt-stiff sweatpants in the laundry, ran the shower, and scrubbed the tiles and then himself until both were raw. Then he flayed the sheets from the bed and jammed last week's laundry into the washer with enough detergent to sterilize dirt.
Running his reddened fingers over the disinfected kitchen counters, he wondered what would happen if he drank the lemon-scented bleach he'd fed them. If nothing else, it might slake his growing thirst and get the sooty taste out of his mouth. But first the fridge.
Old food made it into the trash or the disposal, and Brick repressed a shiver as he reached all the way to the back wall to scrub it clean. The chill was as bracing as the bleach and numbed the scratch in his throat. He opened the freezer to give it the same treatment but paused at the sight that greeted him. There, nestled atop a pint of ice cream, sat a stylized snowflake. He reached for it mechanically, a delicate and whimsical little thing out of place in his sensibly stocked freezer. It was large enough to fit in the palm of his hand, light as a feather and misting between his fingers.
The acrid burn quietly smoldering in his throat all morning roared now with a vengeance. Buttery sunlight peeled the sanitized walls of their sterile luster, and the smells of lavender and espresso made him choke. Brisa's bright laughter echoed as she darted playfully around the room, determined to fill every crack and corner. The snowflake dripped, cool fingers down his chest, and he remembered rosy eyes and a safe space.
"Don't pout," she whispered in his ear, so close, so real.
Brick clutched Blossom's beautiful snowflake to his chest and sank to the floor he'd exorcised of everything but time and memories. Their lovely ghosts rose from the dust and seeped into the furniture, the books, the pictures, his veins, his lungs, his throat. Her hand was cold in his, but his tears were hot and boiled upon his cheeks.
Shaking on the floor and unable to fight it anymore, Brick gave himself over to the haunting and cried.
When Butch got going, there was no stopping him, and right now, Buttercup was struggling to keep up with him as he soared over a twilit Citiesville to the bougie Ocean Heights neighborhood.
"Butch!" she yelled over the wind.
But he ignored her and sped up even more. Shit, at this rate CPD radar would pick up their illegal flight and send in choppers. At last, he touched down in front of an enormous, modern house that was more windows than wood and ripped the huge, oaken front door clean off its hinges. Buttercup dashed after him, but he had already disappeared inside.
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!"
"Brisa!" Butch shouted as he stormed through the house.
Buttercup caught up to him in the living room and yanked him back by the wrist. "Butch, what the flying fuck is happening?! Why did you break into this house?!"
His eyes were bright with a hysteria she had not seen in years, and it sang to something in her blood. Her breaths caught in her throat and her fists rose with her heart, primed in challenge. But that wasn't bloodlust in his bared teeth.
"She's got Brisa," he said in a crumbling voice.
"Who?" Buttercup demanded.
Butch's pain turned febrile, as if the mere thought awakened a savage beast inside. "That two-faced bitch, Dinah Swathe."
"What?"
Butch squeezed his eyes shut and forced his tears to the corners. He broke out of her grasp and stormed through the first floor of the house. "Brisa!"
Dinah Swathe?
The woman had rubbed Buttercup the wrong way, but not so hard as to warrant suspicion of being anything other than just another pretentious, rich asshole. Dazed and confused, Buttercup still had the business card from Jelinda's that had set Butch off, but there was nothing that stood out to her the way it had to him. Steeling herself, she went after him again.
She didn't get far before she came upon a woman curled up on an ottoman facing the grand piano.
"What the hell?" Buttercup tried shaking the woman, but she didn't stir. Fearing the worst, she checked for a pulse. It was weak and slow, but it was there.
"Gina," Butch snarled. He appeared at Buttercup's side in a flash, fists glowing green.
Buttercup moved on instinct and grabbed them, wincing at the sting of his power clashing with hers. "Butch—"
"Get outta my way!"
"Not until you calm down!"
The struggle didn't last long in his recovering state, and Buttercup had him on the floor in seconds, the remnants of his shield crackling in her fists as she bent it to her own will. She was on him in an instant and pressed his shield back against him until she was sure he couldn't move.
"Calm. Down," she said waspishly, hating the tremble in her words almost as much as the tears in his eyes. The anger and the bloodlust were there, but he stank of fear and shame, and it shamed her to witness it all over again after just a few short hours. "Please," she added. "I'm right here. Tell me what's going on."
He endeavored to breathe under her weight and the weight of the shield pinning him, but there was a glimmer of lucidity in his glowing, neon eyes.
"It was Dinah," he said through gritted teeth.
"What was?"
"The card. Her lab, Aegis. I recognized the logo." With a snarl, he slammed his head back on the floor in a fit of rage. Buttercup twisted a fist in his shorn hair to keep him from doing it again. "I'm gonna fucking murder her."
Buttercup believed him, and she was dangerously close to believing she might help him bury the body because if that was Dinah's card at Jelinda's, then it was her fingerprints all over Ace's missing misfits and Mojo's burglary.
"You think she has Brisa," Buttercup followed his train of thought to its gruesome, unspoken end. "Shit."
He struggled again. "I swear to god, BC, if you don't let me go I'll go through you, I swear to fucking god—"
Buttercup was already off him and helping him stand, but she didn't let him go. "Listen to me." Her hands on his shoulders squeezed for his attention and for his comfort, imploring. "I heard you, every word. I believe you, and I'm going to help you. But I need you to take a minute before you do something we'll both regret."
His breathing came in short, stunted gasps and his whole body quaked with seismic anguish like it took every ounce of energy they both had to hold him together. Buttercup moved her powerful hands up his neck around the backs of his ears and under his jawline. His forehead was clammy and feverish when it touched hers.
"Butch, please," she said.
His hands were heavy and hot on her wrists, but he didn't fight her anymore.
Now, the hard part.
"Okay," she said, letting him go. "Okay."
Brimming with power, Butch nonetheless managed not to smash through any more windows or break down any more doors as he stood there seething. "Where the hell are they?"
"I don't know, but we'll find them. First, I have to call the paramedics." Buttercup already had her phone out dialing the CPD precinct.
"Fuck that," Butch spat. "Gina probably knows something. We need to question her."
Buttercup put her body between Butch and Gina. "And we will when she wakes up."
"I'll wake her up."
"She's been heavily sedated. She's not going to wake up no matter how hard you smack her." And hell, but Buttercup almost wanted to smack her too if just to have someone to take out her fury and confusion on. Because the reality of things was that Dinah Swathe was a liar and a villain and beyond dead when they found her. They would erase her from existence down to her creepy, painted smile.
But now was not the time for violence and wrath. A soldier would not solve this mystery, but maybe a detective could.
"Ty, are you at your computer?" she spoke into her phone when the call connected.
"Hey, partner. Uh, yeah, I can be. What's up?" Ty asked.
"I need you to do a full background check on Dinah Swathe."
Ty laughed. "Is this about Butch again? He still suspicious after the clean bill of health we pulled up?"
Buttercup glanced at her mercurial counterpart. "It's me asking this time. I'm pretty sure she kidnapped Brisa and possibly her own son, and I'm one hundred percent sure she's behind a string of missing persons cases."
Ty said soberly, "Danny Chang?"
Buttercup bit her lip. "I'm not sure, but it's not looking good."
"Shit. You've been busy."
"I don't have time to get into all the details right now, but I need you to trust me on this."
"Say no more. How do you wanna do this?"
"Deep web scrub. Use Elmer Sglue from IT. He can color outside the lines, and he'll keep it discreet if it's a request from me. I want to know what damp hole this bitch crawled out of so I can bury her in it."
"Consider it done. I'll call you as soon as I got somethin'."
"Thanks, Ty."
His voice caught her before she hung up. "Hey, whatever you're gonna do, and we both know you're gonna do something… Be smart."
Don't get caught.
"Why do you think I called you first?" Buttercup smiled thinly.
They hung up, and she found Butch looking around the house with a faraway look in his eyes, a telltale sign of his X-ray vision.
"Find anything?" Buttercup asked. She could hear ambulance and police sirens getting closer, but they still had a few minutes.
"No sign of Brisa or Richie," Butch said grimly.
No sign of a struggle, either, Buttercup thought as she observed the living space. Wherever Dinah had taken the kids, it had been a willing outing. Gina had no signs of bruising or marks that would indicate an altercation had taken place. She must have taken the sedative unwittingly. A couple glasses for water, partially full, sat on the kitchen counter. Buttercup picked them up with a kitchen towel and noticed faint lipstick smudges on one that matched the shade Gina was wearing.
"What're you doing?" Butch asked.
Buttercup placed the incriminating glass on the coffee table next to Gina. "Making sure they get the right message about what happened here. Come on. We don't want to be here when the officers show up."
"Finally. We need to get to her lab. She might be there."
Buttercup highly doubted that. It would be too sloppy, and Dinah Swathe had proven to be maliciously meticulous. But they had to do something, and right now it was the next best lead. With Butch's help, Buttercup put the front door back on its hinges and welded the bent metal back into place with her laser eye beams. They took off just as the ambulance and two police cars rounded the block, and Buttercup placed another phone call.
"Blossom," Buttercup said when her sister picked up after two rings. "I need your help."
Human.
Blossom didn't want to believe it, but it was the only theory that made sense. Clara was rattling off every reason she could think of for why the very insinuation was absurd, inconceivable, so against the laws of nature and science that it could be nothing short of impossible.
"Blossom just proved it's possible," Boomer argued, on his feet as he faced off against Clara.
"It's a theory, not a proven conclusion," Clara argued back. "People don't just turn into monsters!"
"They can if they consume a volatile compound," Blossom said.
"We have a friend who ate radioactive paste when we were kids, and he became a glue monster," Bubbles said nonchalantly. "The Professor figured out how to change him back, but he sort of just does that now."
"Fuzzy's balls, what the hell else did I miss in those couple of months before Him resurrected me?" Boomer said. "You know what? No, never mind. I don't want to know."
Clara reacted with the appropriate level of mortification to someone who had just admitted to being resurrected by a literal demon and took a polite step back.
"Chemical X can also have a similar effect on people," Blossom said. With the blunt force of a falling boulder, she added: "And there are only a few people who have Chemical X in their possession."
Bubbles looked at her with all the impending mortality of one facing down that same, falling boulder. "Oh my god."
"Yes," Blossom confirmed. "I think I know who's behind the monsters."
"Who?!" Boomer blurted out.
Blossom briefly explained everything as Clara drove the three Supers in her Prius to Aegis Labs in Citiesville.
"Wait, hold up," Boomer said next to Blossom in the back seat. "Brick gave Dinah the Chemical X? And you knew about it?"
"Yes," Blossom said as she dialed the number for Aegis Labs' General Counsel. "We thought it was safe. We were thorough."
Not thorough enough.
Blossom bit her tongue to smother a scream.
"Buttercup and I knew too." Bubbles pressed her fingers to her temples. "I'm so sorry," she said to no one in particular.
"This is so beyond bad," Boomer said.
The line connected, and a man's scratchy voice said, "This is Ray Sipsa."
"Ray, hi, it's Blossom Utonium. Do you have a minute?" Blossom said.
"Blossom, hello. Absolutely, I've been trying to reach you, but your assistant said you were out today. Something to do with that monster attack yesterday, I gathered."
Blossom ignored the attempt at conversation and cut right to the point. "I was wondering if you and Dinah would be available for a meeting today? I know it's last minute, but I wanted to discuss the sample."
"That's what I was calling about, actually," Ray said. "I received your client's signed paperwork on Monday, but we've had no further update on when we'd be receiving the sample. Do you have an ETA from your client?"
Blossom's face must have withered like a raisin from the look of genuine concern Boomer was shooting her way. "I'm sorry, do you mean to say you didn't receive the sample on Monday along with the paperwork?"
"What's going on? Who's that?" Boomer prodded.
Blossom put a finger to her lips for silence and put Ray on speaker.
"Well, yes. Dinah said she'd spoken with Brick and that he would be dropping off the sample sometime this week."
Lie.
Brick had texted her on Monday after he handed over a sample of Chemical X he'd procured from Mojo to confirm the deal was done. He had no reason to lie about a deal they both wanted to see through to the end.
"I see. I'll follow up with my client and get that update for you," Blossom said.
"That'd be great, thanks. I've got teams of biomedical engineers and geneticists anxious to get started on the projects you were briefed on during your tour. It'd be great to have something for them soon."
"Of course. Ray, about that meeting. Is Dinah available for a phone call now? I shouldn't need more than five minutes of her time."
Bubbles and Boomer leaned closer to the phone to hear Ray's reply, while Clara glanced more at Blossom in her rearview mirror than at the road in front of her.
"I'm sorry, she's not. She's been out of the office since Monday, actually. Dropped off the paperwork with me and then jetted off."
Blossom met Bubbles' gaze. Her sister shook her head emphatically "no".
"That's too bad," Blossom said, smooth as stone. "Do you know where she went? Somewhere tropical, I hope."
Ray laughed. "Your guess is as good as mine. When Dinah takes a vacation, she's off the grid and incognito. Only way to unwind if you ask me."
"I agree. All right, thanks for your help, Ray. I'll be in touch."
Blossom hung up and Boomer nearly lost his mind.
"We literally saw Dinah at your Halloween party," he sputtered. "What the hell is going on?"
"Smells like a conspiracy to me," Clara said.
Blossom couldn't agree more. "Clara, I think you better step on it."
"Oh hell yeah. Strap in, kiddos!"
Clara floored it and made at least two illegal turns weaving in and out of traffic. The Financial District was an unlikely marriage of slate grey office buildings and vibrant restaurants servicing the daily lunch hour rush. After 6 p.m., they closed their colorful doors and the suits abandoned the streets for the bars south of Agora Street. Blocks of empty sidewalks beneath vertiginous sky scrapers lent a dizzying, Escheresque quality to the streets. At dusk, the effect was as unsettling as it was discombobulating.
Blossom's phone buzzed as she and the others piled out of Clara's car and briskly made their way to Aegis Labs across the street. She answered after two rings.
"Blossom," Buttercup said, her voice staticky over the rush of wind. "I need your help."
Blossom looked up at the looming glass-and-grey building that housed all of Aegis Labs. "As it turns out, we're going to need yours too."
"Butch and I are headed to Aegis Labs. I'll explain later. Are you with Bubbles? I need you to meet us there ASAP."
Blossom followed Clara and the Blues inside, where the receptionist greeted them warmly and asked if they had an appointment. "We're already here," she said darkly.
"Why are you—? Shit, never mind. We're almost there."
The line went dead, and Blossom stared at the dark screen of her phone. Her hands shook like they knew the worst was yet to come and she was already too late. Always too goddamned late to help.
The pieces of her broken heart rattled in their dark pit, crying out for something solid to hold on to—she was no good on her own, didn't she realize that by now? How many loves must she lose before she finally accepted it? And even now, even with Clara and Boomer and her sisters supporting her, she could not help but clench the shards in her fingers until they bled.
Leading had never been lonely until she learned that she didn't have to do it alone.
Butch stormed in with Buttercup in tow. Boomer yanked Clara out of his way as he confronted the receptionist and demanded to see Dinah Swathe.
"Butch," Buttercup barked.
He didn't hear her. Blossom caught Bubbles' eye and gestured to Butch. Bubbles pursed her lips and bravely got in between him and the flabbergasted receptionist literally cowering in her swivel chair.
"Butch, hey. What's going on?" Bubbles asked softly.
"What is going on, Buttercup?" Blossom pulled her sister aside while Bubbles spoke with Butch in hushed tones.
She looked ready to spontaneously combust, but she hadn't found her desired target yet. "Dinah Swathe has Brisa, and probably like twenty other missing people. And she's behind the Mojo burglary." Buttercup clutched the back of her neck like it pained her. "Fuck me running."
"Brisa? How—" Blossom began.
"She's making fucking monsters?!" Butch growled. He materialized from clear across the room and grabbed Blossom by her shirt front. "That's what this was all about?!"
"Butch, stop! You didn't let me finish explaining," Bubbles tried to defuse the situation.
"Let go," Blossom said.
Inches away, his power burned and his fear brought tears to both their eyes. "She has my fucking daughter and you knew!"
Buttercup moved before Butch finished pulling back his hand for a thoughtless punch, but Blossom was faster. She poured everything she had into her freezing vice grip on his wrist and threw her weight behind it. There was hardly time for a split second of guilt before she twisted Butch's arm behind him and forced him to his knees on the pristine tile floor. Like the hard bastard he was, he didn't so much as cry out in pain for his still-healing wounds. Blossom pressed only enough to ensure he wouldn't fight back. Her hands, crusted in ice, no longer shook.
Leading had never been lonely until she learned that she didn't have to do it alone.
But she would goddamn do it anyway.
Pink eyes bled to red as she surveyed her sisters and Brick's brothers gathered around her, petrified in place and terrified with no way to focus their shared anguish. Blossom let out a misty breath and willed herself to keep it together for them.
"We will not fight each other," she commanded in a voice that could move glaciers. "Either we're a team, or we fail. Choose."
Buttercup stared at Butch, Boomer stared at the floor, and Bubbles stared at Blossom. Bubbles' hard serenity was an anchor in a hurricane, and Blossom nodded grimly. She released Butch, who didn't utter a peep of protest as he got back to his feet, breathing hard and rubbing his eyes. Poor Clara clung to Boomer's sweater, wide-eyed and wary.
By now, the receptionist had retreated through a Staff Only door, leaving the Super group alone in the stark white lobby.
Blossom waited until she had everyone's attention. "Good." She wiped the snowmelt from her hands on her jeans. "First, I am deeply sorry for whatever part I played in Dinah getting Chemical X. It wasn't my idea or decision, but it may as well have been. You have my word that I will do everything in my power to make it right, no matter the cost."
"Blossom," Boomer said, contrite.
"You couldn't have known what Dinah was really up to," Buttercup said, surprising everyone present. "None of us did. It's not your fault."
"I think we all know whose fucking fault it is." Butch glared at Blossom, but he wasn't seeing her.
"We do," Blossom snapped back. "It's Dinah's fault. She's using the X to turn people into monsters. She's taken Brisa." Blossom met Buttercup's steely gaze. "And now she's taken even more people, as I understand it."
"Ace had a list of missing persons, guys nobody'd miss," Buttercup said. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure it started with Danny Chang, but it's so much bigger."
Christ.
"But that was way before Brick gave her any Chemical X," Bubbles said, "right? You got that case around the same time Blossom came back to town."
"Hey, yeah," Boomer said. "The monsters showed up weeks ago. How's that possible?"
"It's not, unless she had Chemical X already," Clara said.
"Which she didn't," Bubbles said. "She couldn't have."
Blossom thought about that. "Unless she did, somehow." But then, why ask Brick to get her a sample? Why steal Rowdyruff DNA from Mojo at all? Why kidnap Brisa now?
"Who gives a shit about the whys? All that matters is finding Brisa and eviscerating that bitch from cunt to kisser," Butch said.
Not a soul disagreed.
"We have to find the bitch first," Blossom said, in keeping with the spirit of the mood.
"I've got Ty looking into her," Buttercup said sotto voce. "She was as clean as a bleached asshole when the kiddies at CPD checked her out, but we're digging deeper now."
Blossom nodded. "Her office may have clues too. And her house."
"We just came from there. I called in warrants to search both. They should be crossing a judge's desk as we speak. I've got Amber alerts out on Brisa and Richie."
"What about other potential second locations? Other offices, labs, vacation homes, that kind of thing?"
"CPD is already on it, standard procedure for kidnappings. But it'll take time."
Which we don't have.
Now she understood why Buttercup had asked for help. But without knowing where Dinah could have taken Brisa, they couldn't help her, Super or not. How do you find a place that doesn't exist without the luxury of time to go through the proper legal channels?
You don't.
"Buttercup," Blossom said heavily.
Her churlish sister held her gaze, and an understanding passed between them that needed no words. Even so, Buttercup didn't have to like it. She tilted her head back in supplication to the gods of fuckery and said, "Son of a bitch."
"Um, so what's the plan?" Boomer asked.
Bubbles preemptively slipped her hand in his, sensing danger.
"We need to talk to Brick," Blossom said, miraculously without imploding.
It was Butch she and Buttercup had been worried about from the way Buttercup put her hand on his chest before he could fly off the handle again, but he turned out to be the least of their worries.
"No," Boomer said. His eyes lost their luster, transfixed on Blossom like she'd been convicted of witchcraft. "No."
"Boomer," Bubbles said. A surge of blue power crackled to life around Boomer and sucked the light out of the room.
Blossom was ready restrain him as she'd done his brother, but Butch stepped in between them.
"Boomer," Butch echoed Bubbles. "Let it go, man."
Boomer snapped. "Fuck that."
Bubbles took his other hand in hers and added her power to his. Desperate, he looked down at her, and then back at Butch.
"Sure, fuck that," Butch said. "And fuck him, no contest. But this is my daughter we're talking about. Your niece, and his too. It's his goddamned mandate."
Boomer trembled so badly he may have collapsed with one more push, but he didn't. One so used to carrying the weight of worlds wouldn't fall to his knees so easily. Blossom's broken heart ached to help him, but he didn't need it. Not from her, anyway.
"Boomer," Butch said, "please."
Bubbles said nothing during this entire exchange, but she didn't have to. Boomer leaned his weight on her, and she asked for nothing in return. That alone nearly unraveled Blossom where she stood.
At length, Boomer nodded. "Fine. But this isn't over."
"Not on your life," Butch agreed.
He moved aside and suddenly there Boomer was, and all Blossom could muster was an apology that was nowhere near enough because it wasn't hers to give. Even so, she gave it.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He blinked his gorgeous tears away and showed her his profile. "I know you are."
It was all the permission she would get, and every motivation she needed.
Find Dinah.
Find her, and they would find Brisa. Blossom could think of only one person who would have the resources, contacts, and motivation to help with or without permission. For Brisa, and for all the other poor souls Dinah had victimized, she would wash down her broken pieces with a cold draught of her infamous, bitter pride.
Blossom stepped outside to call Brick and prayed he'd pick up for her.
At some point, Brick had managed to pick himself up off the floor and dry his eyes. His phone buzzing, a sound that startled him so badly he literally jumped, was the last thing he expected. Dashing to answer it, his hands shook so violently he nearly dropped it on the kitchen floor. Princess' sly smile stared back at him from the caller ID, and if he hadn't been supporting his weight against the kitchen counter, his knees would have absolutely given out. A desire to hear Princess' nasally voice struck him like starvation, bone-deep and crushing. He accepted the call.
"Princess," he said, out of breath with the effort.
A voice he didn't recognize immediately said, "Brick? Is this Brick?"
Earth-shattering relief at the prospect of a lifeline prickled with suspicion. "Who the hell is this?"
The man on the other line sputtered. "It's Antony! I-I-I work for Miss Morbucks! This is Brick, isn't it?"
Brick's suspicion gave way to a wriggling paranoia under his skin. "Yes, this is Brick, obviously. You called me. Why are you using Princess' phone? Where is she?"
Antony breathed hard like he'd been exerting himself. "Oh, thank god. I didn't know who else to call! They gave me back her phone, but Miss Morbucks wouldn't leave it behind. She told me to wait and I waited!"
Brick's knuckles cracked when he crushed a fist hard enough to hurt. His paranoia burned as it burrowed deeper through tissue and bone, and it was all he could do to remain still and subdued. Very calmly, he said, "Antony, shut up and listen to me. Where are you?"
Twenty minutes later, Brick parked illegally across the street from an apartment building in the Marina district so new and modern it had no tenants yet. Antony was there, pacing and looking more like a squirrel than he usually did. His pinched face looked up at Brick fast crossing the street toward him, and he rushed to meet him. When he opened his mouth, Brick held up a hand for silence.
"How long ago did she go in?" Brick demanded.
"Four hours and seventeen—eighteen minutes ago." Antony checked his watch.
Brick took Princess' candy-case phone from him and scrolled through the recent calls and texts. Nothing in the previous four hours. The last text she'd received was from Blossom:
[Blossom: Hey, just checking in. Let me know you're okay. Last night was awful. I feel awful. I'm so sorry. Please call me.]
Brick stared at it for so long, he began to hear Blossom's voice saying the words and missed whatever Antony was saying now.
"What did you just say?" Brick said.
Antony blinked owlishly. "Th-The last of the other guests left about a half hour ago with the sun. When Miss Morbucks wasn't among them, I-I went to look for her. The concierge returned her phone and said she'd left with friends, but I knew it was a contrivance."
Brick glared at the empty building in front of them. "Yeah. She doesn't have any real friends but me and…"
Stop.
"Miss Morbucks always said if anything happened to her, I should call you. That you would know what to do. Oh my god… Do you think she's been kidnapped? For ransom?! Her father will have my head, oh lord. And at his own party!"
Brick stopped scanning the deserted lounge hidden underground with his X-ray vision and whirled on Antony. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Antony burst into tears.
"Jesus Christ, get ahold of yourself!" Brick snarled. "What did you just say about her father? That this was his party?"
Antony had devolved into a weepy, waterlogged rodent clinging to Brick's forearm. "H-H-He gave her the invi—invitaahhhhCHOOOOO!"
Brick only narrowly avoided the point-blank sneeze by dropping Antony on his ass. He then dialed Oliver Morbucks on Princess' phone and showed Antony his back, lest he completely lose his fucking mind.
"Hello Sweetpea, how was Dinah's party?" asked a gravelly voice when the call connected.
At which point Brick did, in fact, completely lose his fucking mind for about four seconds.
"Sweetpea?" Oliver prompted.
Brick cleared his throat, but it did nothing for the pall of paranoia that descended upon him at the sound of that name in that voice. "Mr. Morbucks. This is Brick calling from Princess' phone. She's indisposed."
A pregnant pause, then: "Brick… It's been a long time, son."
The sidewalk crumbled to craters under his feet where his power burst from him uncontrollably at that odious fucking endearment.
Before he could do something truly insane like snap back at the hand that feeds, Oliver added, "I'm pleased you're out and working, considering recent events. But, Princess always had a bit of a soft spot for you and your ilk."
Sure, because the last fifteen years painstakingly spent learning how to be each other's one true person were nothing but a drawn out charity case. Far be it from Brick to correct a man who had never been wrong about anything in his life, according to his bank balance.
"Speaking of soft spots, would you like me to give your regards to Dinah Swathe?" Brick said.
Oliver chortled, as though the very notion of being soft in any sense of the word was itself outlandish. "No need. Our obits tend to cross at multiple nodes as it is."
Color me not fucking surprised.
"I see. Then I better get back to it," Brick said.
"Brick, my boy," Oliver said, "one last thing while I have you."
Brick wondered how thin the tectonic plates under Morbucks Mansion were these days. Perhaps they could use a good cracking. "What."
"My offer remains open for whenever you're ready to consider a change of pace."
Yeah, right. He'd sold Oliver Morbucks a piece of his soul already; he would never do it again no matter how easy it would be. Brick closed his eyes and forced himself to swallow. "Not today, thank you."
"Well, there's always tomorrow. You know where to find me."
They hung up, and Brick pocketed Princess' phone before he could be tempted to smash it on the ground out of pure spite. But none of that mattered right now. Conspiracies swirled in his head like raw batter, beaten and folded with visions of murder and coverups and tinfoil hats until his brain was cooked because what were the odds? What were the odds of Princess disappearing at a secret, exclusive party for the decadent elite hosted by a woman with more connections than PG&E and even less accountability for the fires popping up in her wake?
He may have considered it a coincidence, if not for two critical facts: that were no coincidences, and Dinah had unfettered access to Chemical X.
Chemical X that Brick had given her, that she'd asked him for.
Because there were no coincidences.
Brick said nothing. He let the truth wash over him in lapping waves, salty and cold, as he beat against them one stroke at a time. It was only a mile and a half from the island prison back to the mainland, and shadows lurked in the undertow full of teeth and temptation. Easy to sink, easier still to drown, and no hand was waiting to reach for him.
But he was a fucking Rowdyruff, and he could fly.
A hand tugged at the hem of his hoodie. Antony, puffy and pucker-faced, mercifully had ceased his sobbing. "Please," he said in a tinny voice, "you must help me find her. She helped me when I lost everything—my home, my work, my…my whole life." He tightened his grip on Brick's clothes. "I beg you, please."
Princess and her goddamned strays. Well, Brick was no stranger to the feeling or the relentless loyalty it inspired. He yanked Antony's hand off of him and pulled him up to stand properly. "Save your begging for Princess. That's her kink, not mine."
"Yes, sir!"
Well, that was supremely uncomfortable on several levels—the deference to authority, the loaded moniker, the unexpected yet powerful fantasy of Blossom on her knees calling him that as a fun little surprise. Brick did not have time to unpack any of that right now, thank god. He all but carried Antony back to his car, shoved him in the passenger's seat, and drove north.
Antony sniffled disgustingly loud. "Where are we going?"
Brick checked his rearview and took a sharp left to avoid the busier streets. "We're not going anywhere. You're staying in the car while I talk to an urban planner who owes me a favor."
In the spirit of the worst 90s buddy cop films, Antony picked this moment to grow a spine. "I want to help. Please use me however you see fit, sir!"
Brick nearly hit a fire hydrant swerving, and Antony yelped. "One, don't ever call me sir again if you value your spleen."
"Yes, sirrrick," Antony slurred. He pulled at the thin, black tie knotted tighter around his neck than a noose. "Apologies."
"Two, I'm going to find Princess. That's a given. But I'm going to break a few laws to do it—also a given. If you don't want to open yourself up to legal ramifications, then I'll drop you at the next bus stop, and I won't think any less of you than I already do."
"I understand," Antony said soberly. "It's noble of you to consider the risk to me, but I won't abandon Miss Morbucks."
Brick nodded. "All right then."
"So, what's the plan?" Antony asked.
Brick considered as he pulled into traffic behind a city bus. "The woman who hosted that party, Dinah Swathe, obviously didn't anticipate Princess showing up instead of her father. She mostly likely panicked and forced Princess to leave with her against her will."
Antony gasped dramatically. "No."
"Don't interrupt me when I'm talking," Brick snapped.
Antony looked at his hands abashed. "Yes s—Brick. Apologies."
"Anyway, the point is Dinah's a snake, and snakes have a tendency to hide out in nasty little holes out of sight. I'm going to find that hole and pull her out by her fucking fangs."
"So… We're going to her home?"
"No. This'll be some location off the grid, something she would have kept secret from everyone, especially someone like me." Because there were no coincidences, and she'd planned all this, and she knew he'd come after her if he ever found out what she was really up to.
Well, she had his undivided and personal attention now.
He dictated a number from memory to Antony, who obediently dialed it and patched it through the Bluetooth.
"This is an unlisted number, you troll," said a soprano, feminine voice through the speaker when the line connected.
"Julie, it's Brick," said Brick.
There was a pause. "How dare you call me? I shouldn't even be talking to you! If this got out—"
"You owe me a favor. I recall that we agreed on 'anything' in exchange for ensuring your father's unconditional release from the asylum," Brick interrupted. "I need to find a building that doesn't exist."
Another pause, then: "You're burned in this town, Brick. I can't help you even if you ask nicely."
Antony looked distressed. Brick laughed. "Good thing I'm not asking, nicely or otherwise. See you soon."
He ended the call just as he pulled into the Smith & Associates parking lot. With one last warning look at Antony, he let himself out and flew to the top floor office to collect on an old debt.
There's a short period of time in horror movies when the Final Girl and all her friends arrive at the obviously haunted house, ignore every single sign of Danger, You're About to Fucking Die in This Shit Hole, and one by one the hapless characters get picked off in increasingly disturbing ways that force everyone left to consider that maybe, possibly, perhaps the feces hath hit the oscillating propeller, Janet.
That time had come and gone, and the Final Girl was not an inept virgin too lucky to die; she was Princess fucking Morbucks, and she would Scheherazade the shit out of this haunted hell house and the demise Dinah no doubt had in store for her come morning.
"I'm actually so pleased you showed up tonight in place of your father," Dinah said as they exited an industrial elevator nine levels down from the street. "The Morbucks name punches in its own weight class. I've always admired Oliver, but my vision requires fresh eyes looking ahead to the future."
"A world without weakness," Princess said, snottily saccharine.
Dinah was too high on her own fumes to care for her tone. "That's the plan."
The elevator let them out into a concrete and steel hallway, where two very buff guards in black uniforms with really big guns greeted them.
"Don't mind them. It's just my security detail," Dinah said.
Princess knew a thing or two about security detail. Still, she gathered her gold skirt and marched shoulder to shoulder with Dinah while the muscle brought up the rear. "You mentioned additional test subjects. Are they on the same regimen as the demonstrator tonight?"
Dinah smiled serenely. "Yes and no. Recently, the regimen's changed with the introduction of a promising new blend of our proprietary compound."
"You mean, Chemical X."
They entered a cavernous room occupied by smaller rooms along the walls. Iron bars separated them from the central area, where there sat an array of desks and longer tables sprinkled with computers, lab equipment, and a few people busy working. An operating table equipped with leather restraining straps spaced too far apart for a man-sized patient lay unoccupied. A metal arm hung over the table like a dentist's examination light, but this one was much larger, entirely metal, and slotted with tiny openings like a sieve. Princess paused to stare at the nightmarish Frankenstein table, but it was hard to concentrate over the chorus of groaning.
It filled the room in a low dirge, a rippling round of voices from behind the bars—the cages. People sat in little boxes, dewy-eyed and depressing like rescue animals in ASPCA infomercials bound for the butcher.
One of the caged prisoners raised his moan in a shout above the others and beat his meaty hand against the bars. Except that was no ordinary hand. Encased in exposed muscle and large enough to crush a man's whole head, it bulged from his shoulder like it had been inflated with a bike pump. A bulky guard in Kevlar approached the disturbed prisoner and passed a hunk of raw meat through a feeding door high above the cell, while a lab tech with an iPad observed the process and scribbled notes on her tablet.
The oh, fuck died in Princess' throat along with any hope of ever eating meat again watching the way that creature-man ripped into dinner with teeth too bulky to have naturally been his.
Dinah's ice-white eyes slithered in Princess' direction like some gelatinous, deep-sea eel. "You know, this is why I'm so keen to show you around. I've read about your childhood exploits in the pursuit of power. Impressive, to say the least. Unlike my other backers, you already have experience chasing an…enhanced lifestyle."
So she had tried to take over Townsville and gain Superpowers when she was a kid, sue her. Money could buy a lot, but it couldn't buy a new past. But those old ghosts were the only thing keeping Princess on this side of the bars for now.
"I did," she played along, averting her gaze to face Dinah directly, "once upon a time."
It was the answer Dinah had been looking for. She illuminated, as pale as a bioluminescent mushroom. "What if I told you fairytales can be real? This," she gestured around her, "is only the beginning. My upgraded Compound X can heal the sick, but it doesn't have to stop there. Strength, immunity, invincibility—anything is possible in a world without weakness. For a price, of course."
No wonder she'd been able to cover her tracks and keep her research afloat. How much would a rich man pay to become healthy? How much more would he pay to become a god?
What price had Dinah's test subjects paid? What did a world without weakness look like through narrow bars and purulent eyes?
"So did they get the clearance sale batch?" Princess approached one of the cells. An emaciated woman sat hunched over humming under her breath. Chapped alligator skin pebbled up and down her arms. A shriveled clump of her shed skin sat crumpled in a corner like discarded Christmas paper.
Dinah spared the poor woman a glance. "Early trials. These were all before I received a pure sample of the compound's main ingredient: Chemical X. But I assure you, the latest tests have been running beautifully."
Yeah, laser-breath dude from the party seemed to be running on one hundred percent gorgeous.
"See for yourself. Dane?" Dinah nodded behind her at the two guards who had been following them until now. Both wore masks that obscured the lower halves of their faces, and the rest of them was similarly shrouded. Nonetheless, the big one on the left—Dane—drew a truncated sword hilt from his hip, while not-Dane stepped aside to give him some room.
Princess watched, astounded, as he began to crackle with power concentrated in his hand. It amassed and elongated, until the broken sword curved to a wicked, white-hot edge. Unlike the guinea pig on stage earlier, Dane did not fall to his knees or even break a sweat. His bloodshot eyes glowed white, malevolent in their vacancy.
Warm hands took Princess', and she was once more face to face with Dinah Swathe's carved smile. "Think about it," she said, giddy as a girl at a sleepover. "Power, real power. It's everything you always wanted, and I can give it to you. Beauty, wealth, status, and Compound X. You'll be second to none."
The scales fell from her eyes as Princess finally understood Dinah's angle. "Not even the Powerpuff Girls."
Some people could smile with their eyes as well as their mouths. Dinah could not. The wider she bared her teeth, the more her eyes glowed with a liquid mania meant for blood moons and grim tales. It was juvenile, it was crass, and it was deeply, unexpectedly personal. "Least of all the Powerpuff Girls."
A few pertinent questions came to mind then: why?, and are you fucking high?, and of course, who are you really?
But Princess didn't ask those questions because for a moment, just one horrible, five-year-old-fantastical little moment, she considered it.
"Ma'am," said either Dane or not-Dane. He held out a radio to Dinah. "They're ready for you."
The mask was back, and Dinah smoothed over the white, scalloped bodice of her party dress that sheathed her like scales. "Finally. Princess, we'll continue this in a bit. I have to check on something. Feel free to talk to my lab techs and look around, but please don't leave this room."
She was off with Dane and not-Dane hot on her heels through a set of sliding glass doors on the far end of the room. Only when she had disappeared completely did Princess allow herself a small show of weakness, and rested her weight on her hand against the nearest wall. Her heart was pounding, and her dress was too snug. A veil of auburn curls hid her jaw set so tightly her teeth hurt.
She had to get out of here.
Oh god, she had to get out of here.
The door behind her, the one she'd come through?
Guarded: not-Dane, not-Dane, and yet another not-Dane.
Fuuuuuuck.
Goddamn great time for Brick to be an egregious bag of dicks.
"A whole duffle bag of dick-bricks," she hissed under her breath like a crazy person.
"Hey, lady," said the imprisoned guy directly next to her.
And then he grabbed her wrist.
Princess, who possessed the lissome grace and good manners of a self-flagellating daughter of a Deep South Belle and a New Age Robber Baron who happily remembered a time when women were women and men were men, very daintily tripped over her heel and fell flat on her ass. Thank god the anguished moaning drowned out her pained exclamation of "Balls!", a heinous thought which before now would have never crossed her mind.
She'd yanked her wrist back, but unfortunately it came attached to an arm crusted with patches of shale. Princess bit her lip to stifle a whimper when she tried to free herself from the man's stone-crushing grip.
"Wait, please don't leave! I-I'm sorry I hurt you," he said, and immediately released her.
Princess scrambled back over the tile on her elbows, but she hit a table and could go no further. In the midst of her humiliating retreat, the man behind the bars came close enough to the light to make out his face. Asian, unkempt hair, and far too young.
"Please don't leave," he pleaded, almost too tired to be properly afraid. "There's no one else."
Princess looked at him properly. There were splotches on his tanned face that resembled sun spots, but they were rocky growths. Zits made a fairy ring around the largest one on his cheek. One arm was almost totally coated in a layer of scabrous sheet rock, while the other was normal and skinny. His dark eyes were half-lidded and sad, but they glimmered with the only shred of hope left in this insane fucking charnel house.
"Jesus Christ," Princess said.
"Do you know them?" the man pressed.
"Who?"
"The Powerpuff Girls." His head slumped in between the bars. The stone on his cheek scraped against the iron. "You said…"
Oh god, she'd done this. She'd given him some kind of hope entirely by mistake, just by saying a few defunct words in an attempt to throw Dinah off the scent. And now what? What the hell was she supposed to do?
"Look," Princess said, "the Powerpuff Girls aren't here or whatever. It's just me."
Rock Boy closed his eyes, and quiet tears fell down his cheeks.
Ah, shit.
"Hey, hey," Princess hissed. "That doesn't mean I'm useless. You wouldn't think that if you knew who I am."
"I'm in a cage underground slowly turning into a Geodude." He opened his wet eyes and glared at her. "Not in a cool way."
Princess let that one slide considering the god-awful situation they were both in. Okay, mostly him, but it wasn't all glitter and confetti where she'd landed, either. Which reminded her to peek over the table and check for signs of danger. Of the few people in the room, no one seemed to be paying her any mind. She turned back to Geodude.
"What exactly is going on here?" she demanded. "They're injecting you with that Compound X shit, right? Why do you look like that?"
He blinked, groggy like he was drugged. Which, obviously, he was. Princess fished around her clutch purse for a tissue and dabbed his clammy forehead. All the while, he watched her in awe.
"Tell me your name," Princess said, a little more gently.
He swallowed. "Danny…Chang."
"How long have you been down here, Danny?" She wiped the sensitive skin around one of the stone patches on his chin.
"Weeks. Maybe… Maybe longer. I don't—I haven't been outside."
Princess masked her horror and disgust rather fucking well, if she did say so herself. She was a Morbucks, after all. Which meant something to people, but especially to Dinah. Her father was meant to attend tonight…
"Are you gonna help me?" Danny whimpered before she had a chance to finish that train of thought. He mistook her distraction for reluctance and pulled himself higher up along the bars until they were at eye-level. "Please, I-I can help. I know things, seen things."
Princess narrowed her eyes. "What have you seen?"
"The Compound X, I know where they keep it."
"Let me guess: it's heavily guarded around the clock."
"Well…"
Obviously. That'd be too easy.
"Her son's sick. She talks about him sometimes."
"Dinah's son?"
Danny nodded. "Yeah, Richie. Said the boy's DNA didn't work. It wasn't compatible with normal humans."
"What boy?"
"No, I mean, the boys plural. The rowdy boys' DNA."
Princess' breath caught in her throat. "The Rowdyruff Boys?"
Danny animated like a freshly turned zombie taking its first whiff of human flesh. "Y-Yeah, that's what she called them."
As if this clusterfuck casserole needed any more spice to give her heartburn.
This bitch has been working.
"Whatever she's using now seems to be super compatible," Princess said. "Have you met Dane?"
Danny shrank from the name as if it had cursed him. Yeah, he'd met Dane, all right. Without thinking too much about it, Princess put her hand on his in a silent apology.
"She has a whole bunch of Danes," Danny whispered. "Her personal power guard. They do whatever she says."
"Why?"
"I don't know. They just do."
Great. A small army of evil Super gangbangers was just the company every girl wanted at the end of a night out partying.
"And there's the girl. Dinah brought her in today with Richie."
"Girl? What girl?"
"Some kid. I didn't see her. They covered our cages when Dinah brought her in. She always does that when she brings her son down for tests."
"Wow. How thoughtful of her. Where's the girl?"
Danny looked towards the sliding doors Dinah had disappeared through earlier, because literally nothing could ever be easy.
"Fabulous," Princess grumbled.
"Dinah's always taking Richie back there. It's where she keeps all the Compound X too."
Princess hated what she was about to do, but she was pretty sure Danny would hate it even more. "Then I need to get back there."
Danny's eyes widened in a panic, and he covered her hand with his. "No, please don't go. You can't leave me here."
"It's just for a little bit. I need to see what I'm dealing with."
Danny's shaking, compounded by his X-enhanced strength, rattled the bars. "No, please. I-I can't stay here. I never—I just delivered some pizzas! I wanted to see my favorite band play." Danny had begun to cry again as he clung to Princess' hand. "I want my mom."
Princess blinked her own tears away in a nervous haste. Dinah could not see that she'd been crying, or she'd be screwed. She wiped them away and touched Danny's feverish face through the bars.
"Hey, listen to me. I'm going to go in there, convince her I'm on her side, and then I'm going to waltz my perfect ass out of here. And the first thing I'm going to do when I get topside is call the Powerpuff Girls and the goddamned National Guard to get you and everyone else out of here." She wiped his tears with her thumb and stared deeply into his frightened eyes. "I'm giving you my word, which is a huge deal for me."
Danny sniffled weakly. "What good is your word when I'm stuck dying in here?"
"My word is my life, and now it's yours too. I'm Princess Morbucks, and my word will raze this place to the fucking ground. I swear it."
Maybe Danny believed her, or maybe he didn't. But he let her go on her oath. She crossed the room like she owned the place and met no resistance when she went through the doors Dinah had exited through earlier. Why would she? She'd been brought in as a guest and an investor. This was courting, the pitch to entice her into bed, and Princess was no easy conquest.
The room at the end of the short hallway was as white as Dinah herself. Dane and not-Dane guarded the entrance near creepy capsules as tall as a man and each containing one hooked up to tubes as they floated in murky liquid. Dinah and another lab coat were speaking behind a partially drawn privacy curtain. Princess glimpsed a sleeping blond boy on a gurney with more tubes coming out of him than a subway station. Against the wall behind them was a small workspace and a lab refrigerator filled with jars and hypodermic needles full of viscous fluid—some the telltale, abyssal black of Chemical X, and others a milky white.
"Princess," Dinah said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Princess shrugged. "Getting the full picture for my investment. If all it took was showmanship and pretty words, I'd be destitute on the streets dodging debt collectors."
Dinah laughed airily. "I completely understand. It's just that this is more of a personal matter involving my son. I'd be happy to talk to you more about the project after I'm finished in here." She nodded at her colleague and pulled the curtain behind him, hiding both him and Richie from view.
"Is this it?" Princess crossed to the lab fridge.
"The Compound X, yes." Dinah intercepted her before Princess could open the fridge.
"There are a lot of them."
"Different samples from past regimens."
"You mean, the failed trials?"
Dinah smiled, and Princess knew she had her. "I find failure to be the best teacher."
"So far, I've learned that I'd rather have what Dane's having."
Dinah's smile widened, and she retrieved two hypodermic needles from the fridge. "I'll do you one better. This is the original sample our test subjects have taken. But this one is the latest batch, just mixed today. It's the most potent recipe yet."
Princess accepted both needles and compared their contents. "They look the same to me."
"I assure you, they're not. The newest batch naturally binds to human DNA. There are still some kinks to work out, of course, but that's what the Antidote is for." Dinah plucked a hypo filled with milky liquid. A label printed in neat script pasted to the side read "Antidote X".
Princess stared at it and hoped like hell that Dinah couldn't hear her racing heart beat. "You created an antidote for Chemical X? Does it work?"
"Of course. Would you like a demonstration?"
Princess said that she would, but before Dinah could respond to that, her colleague emerged from behind the curtain carrying a blood bag. "We have enough for another batch, but she'll need time to replenish. Small children can't take as large a draw as adults, even Super ones," he said. His round glasses flashed under the light as he turned his head to glance at Princess, and he quickly pulled the curtain closed behind him.
But he was too late. In the few seconds it took him to step out from behind the curtain, Princess had glimpsed the sleeping form of Brick's niece on the gurney next to Dinah's son. An array of tubes and machines monitored everything from her brainwaves to her heart beat.
It was a good thing Dinah was distracted speaking to her colleague, otherwise she may have become a tiny bit suspicious of the ghastly look on Princess' face.
What kind of mad scientist's wet dream hellscape had she landed in? All because she'd shown up to a party she was never meant to attend.
"Fine, but prep her for a bone marrow aspiration and biopsy in the meantime," Dinah said. She approached Richie and smoothed his short, blond hair before planting a gentle kiss on his forehead and whispering something sweet for his ears only.
Princess' fingers curled around the hypo filled with the old Compound X blend and slipped it in her clutch while Dinah was distracted. Brick and his brothers wouldn't need much proof beyond Princess' word, but a little extra insurance never hurt. Now, more than ever, she felt the extreme danger of simply being here without any way to contact the outside world, cornered in a serpent's den and surrounded by the bones of her prey.
Dinah turned back to Princess and returned the rest of the hypos to the fridge. "Now then, where were we? Oh, right. A demonstration."
"Actually, it's getting late. My driver is a complete dolt and he's probably still waiting for me. Why don't we pick this up tomorrow?"
"Nonsense, there's no time like the present." Dinah led the way back to the cavernous room. Her white stilettos echoed off the walls in sharp taps, as loud as gunshots.
Princess hugged her clutch purse tighter to her belly. "Normally I'd agree, but I'm really not dressed for a science experiment."
Dinah stopped and turned on her heel to face her. "I really must insist."
Dane and not-Dane's shadows came up behind Princess. She felt their presence like the onset of a bad rash: resistance would only make this worse. But Princess had never liked being pushed around. "You know there are some very powerful people who'll be looking for me if I don't return tonight."
Dinah grinned girlishly. It was perhaps the first time Princess had seen her look genuinely pleased tonight, and it scared the living shit out of her. No easy feat. "I did promise you a demonstration, after all."
Princess could no longer hide her shock and disgust—at Dinah, and at herself for not realizing it sooner. "I'm bait."
Dinah placed a hand over her heart and laughed. "Nothing so crass. You surprised me when you showed up tonight, but I'd prefer to see it as an opportunity. I want your support, Princess. Not because you're your father's daughter; because you of all people should be able to understand the value of my work. However…"
Dane or not-Dane laid a heavy hand on Princess' shoulder.
"I won't deny the convenience of killing two birds with one stone," Dinah said. "Well, three ideally."
Dane or not-Dane shoved her forward and forced her to follow Dinah. She could feel the prisoners' eyes crawling all over her like spiders as she passed by their cages.
"Now, how about some coffee?" Dinah said. "It's going to be a long night, and there's still so much I want to show you."
I'm so sorry, please don't hate me! 😱
Next time: Our heroes get by with a little help from their friends and also one duffle bag of dick-bricks.