Chapter 12
"At least you're off console duty," Chris said.
I growled. "That's not funny. I've basically been in lockdown for five days. It's getting really old."
We were in my Wards quarters, which was immediately adjacent to the holding cells rather than with the rest of the team. My bed shared a wall with Lung's to keep him in my negation field. I had only been allowed out of the room for minutes at a time while we waited for the PRT to arrange secure transport.
"It could be worse," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "At least you didn't get your ass kicked on live TV."
"I wanted to be there," I said, half in defense and half in resentment.
While I had been plugging away at my tele-presence class – another thing Arcadia had that Winslow did not – there was an alarm for all the Wards. The Undersiders, the same group that had led Lung to my house plus a fifth cape who looked like some sort of over-muscled brute, were robbing the Brockton Bay Central Bank. With most of the Protectorate out of town at a meeting, the Wards were sent to stop the villains.
I had, of course, volunteered to join the mission, but had been refused by Commander Calvert.
"Yeah, well," Chris said. "It was a real shit show. It would have been great to have you as back up – half a block away. You might have been able to stop at least some of them once they were past us."
"I owe them a beating or two."
"Yeah, I get that. They're just really hard to find." He went silent then came back in an embarrassed tone. "Oh, it looks like I'm taking your place on permanent console duty."
"Why?" Chris was a good guy. He seldom ended up with a punishment detail.
"I … might have used some unapproved tech during the fight."
"Did it work?" I asked, knowing he sometimes had trouble with his inventions.
"It did, until it didn't," he replied. "I'll build it again. I've got some better ideas now."
"Just get them approved first," I said. "Bureaucracies are bullshit, but that's the job." I blushed at how pompous I sounded. It sounded better coming from the PRT veteran I'd heard say it.
We sat in a silence that was more friendly than uncomfortable.
Chris was a good guy and I enjoyed spending time with him. He was also my only friend related to the job. I got along well enough with Hightower, but he was too old to really be a friend. Howard was not too bad either, even if she was effectively my mental health watchdog. I knew whose side she was ultimately on. Chris was someone I was coming close to trusting. That was a big step for me – after what Emma and my dad had done.
"Thanks for coming by. I know it's late and you should be heading home, but I'm kinda going crazy here," I told him. "While your armor's pretty comfortable, wearing it twenty hours a day is not."
He nodded, glancing over the suit I had on. The helm and gauntlets were on the rack, but I was, as ordered, wearing the rest – just in case.
"Let me know where it chafes …" He was interrupted by an alarm.
Code Twelve. Code Twelve. Prepare for Emergency Deployment. Report to deployment stations. Code Twelve. Code Twelve.
That was the code for a citywide emergency that required all personnel – cape and normal – to be deployed to hot spots across the city. It was only two steps down from an Endbringer alert.
"Holy …" Chris yelled, grabbing his helmet. He started towards the door as I grabbed the rest of my gear.
"Nemesis, report status." Hollis' voice sounding simultaneously over my helmet and room comm stopped me. She had returned to Brockton Bay during my week in prison. We had only spoken a few times. Beck was still on leave.
I slapped the talk button. "Ready for deployment."
"Report to the holding cells," ordered my team lead. "This could be a distraction to get to Lung. Stand guard outside his door."
"But …" I started.
"She's right," Chris said. "Listen… we're usually on Search and Rescue. If you monitor channel 97, I'll keep you informed of what's going on. If I hear anything, I'll let you know."
"Alright. Thanks." He nodded and left to meet the rest of his team at the loading docks. I moved quickly to the holding area.
There were six cells in the holding area. Two were considered high security – the two on either side of my quarters. My space had been a seventh cell at one time. Let me assure you the entrance to my quarters was not in the holding area. It was in a different corridor. They had remodeled the space, putting in a separate door, when I joined the Wards. But there was a reason it still felt like I was in prison.
Lung was in cell three, the most secure. There were containment foam outlets in the walls and ceiling. Lung wore an ankle tether that could be retracted to drag him to the center of the room, under the largest of the foam jets, but was otherwise long enough to allow him to go anywhere in the small space. I looked through the clear door to be sure he was still there. Over the week I had gotten used to him in his orange jumpsuit. He had become familiar, leeching any residual hear I had of him – fear mostly leftover from before my trigger.
He was not supposed to be able to see me through the one-way plexiglass, but he knew I was outside his cell. "Code Twelve?" he mocked in his heavily accented English. "Someone causing trouble out there?"
Before I could answer a rumbling tremor rocked the ground.
"I suspect there are a lot of bombs going off. Big ones. Strange ones." He grinned then dropped onto his bed. "I think I'll wait right here until they come for me. Or drop the building on us. Either way, I'm getting out of here tonight."
I was tempted to trigger the tether, jerking him out of bed. But thought better of it. This could be a long night. There was time to mess with him later if I felt the need.
I pulled a padded seat down from the wall opposite the cell door and sat. A half-hour later I got a call from Chris.
"Oh man, it's horrible out here." He was feeding me his helm camera. Even with digital stabilization the image was panning and jerking wildly as the younger hero freaked out about what he was seeing. All around him there were bloody red pieces of people mixed haphazardly with shattered masonry and torn metal.
A large explosion had collapsed a parking garage into part of Hillside Mall. I recognized it. I had been there recently. "Oh god!" I cried.
"Yeah. This's pretty awful. We're hoping to find some survivors here. But there's worse." He looked out into the parking lot and zoomed into where a group of people and cars all looked like they had been changed to glass or ice and half had shattered.
"Who's doing this?" I asked, appalled.
"That would be my new acquisition – Bakuda, the mad bomber." Lung pitched his voice to carry. "She'll keep bombing and killing until I'm free. Not because she cares about me, but because she's crazy, and I am the only one that can control her."
"Why are you talking to Lung?" Chris sounded shocked.
"I'm not. He's just got big ears." I replied.
"We'd heard he'd recruited the Cornell Bomber. I guess that was true. I'll tell Aegis, just in case. I've got to get back to it."
"Be careful," I said.
"Careful will do no good," Lung laughed. "She strikes like lighting, random and deadly. Only I can save the city from her."
"Nemesis! Stop talking with the prisoner." Agent Hollis stormed up to the door panel and keyed in a command. Loud music started playing, drowning out any noise he might make. I turned down my helmet audio receptors and keyed in the team frequency.
"Are you sure I shouldn't be out there? I can help dig out survivors and maybe my negation field might prevent some of the bombs from going off. Maybe not the normal explosives, but the exotic ones," I argued.
"Get real. Your field's footprint is miniscule compared to what they're dealing with. It's more important that you stay here and stop bad guys from getting what they want." The PRT agent replied. "Get your priorities straight and keep you mind on the mission, like you did when we brought in those fucking twins. You did well then. Do it again."
"Yes, ma'am," I replied. The difference is now my friends and father are in direct danger. They're more important than this mission. I don't even know if Dad's alright, or if he …
Hollis checked the control pad again, then left the holding area. I tried calling my dad though my helmet comm.
"Taylor! Are you ok?" he sounded panicked.
"Dad! I'm still at the PRT building. I'm fine. What about you? Are you ok? Where are you?"
"I'm ok. The hotel got hit. I wasn't hurt, but the building caught fire. I'm at the DWA. Some of us are hunkering down here to protect the place." His voice lowered. "I'm so glad you're alright. I'm so sorry I've been so distant. I went to a bad place when you left. But this whole thing just shocked me back to sanity. I don't want to lose you. I love you, Taylor."
"I love you too, Dad. You take care. I'll come to you as soon as I can."
"Just stay safe," he replied. "You should prob …"
The call dropped as a nearby explosion rocked the building.
"Oni Lee incoming!" yelled Hollis over the radio.
I stood, letting the seat spring back into the wall. I started punching my fists together, charging my gauntlets. There was only one direction anyone not Shadow Stalker could come from. The corridor led to the holding area entrance. The hall was a dead end in the other direction.
I keyed the tether control that pulled Lung into the center of the cell. I also turned off the music and reset my helm sensors. I needed to hear what was going on.
"I told you they were coming for me. Let me go and I'll make your death quick," the prisoner crowed.
"Shut up or you'll spend the next four hours as a confoam stalagmite," I yelled back.
Before he could respond a much closer explosion sent the holding area entrance door smashing into the corridor and clanging against the opposite wall. I stepped forwards placing myself between Lung's cell and the entrance. Lung's cell was two meters wide and three deep. I needed to keep the whole thing in my seven-meter radius. That let me cover most of the corridor to the entrance, but not all of it.
Oni Lee peeked around the corner and fired a burst from his machine pistol. It hit me in the chest but had no effect through my armor and innate toughness. He followed that with a brace of grenades. I was able to use a wide area kinetic blast to knock them back, so they exploded near him.
Suddenly three of him appeared at the far end of the corridor, half a dozen meters out of my range. They sent a small swarm of grenades my way, but again I was able to send them flying back. There was something different about these bombs. They released a spherical storm of purple lightning rather than a normal explosion. The lightening sparked off the corridor walls but only in the first four or five meters of the passageway.
Where the lightning hit the Oni clones, the copies screamed in agony then popped into ash.
That doesn't look good.
"You're not getting past me like this, and the others will be here in seconds," I yelled.
"Ignore her," Lung bellowed. "She's all alone!"
Lee said nothing, but another swarm of clones sent a dozen or more grenades towards me. He threw them so they came at all angles and bounced off the walls and the ceiling. They covered the entire corridor, more than my kinetic blast could screen. Three grenades made it though and exploded into purple lighting near me.
Everything went white, then every inch of me bloomed in a searing agony that dwarfed the worst pain I had ever felt. I thought I was tough, almost invulnerable. Instead, I was down, out of commission.
All it had taken was one good shot.
I was down, but not out. As the lighting flowing through my nerves started to fizzle, I could see that Oni Lee was still stalking the far end of the corridor. Even if I were unconscious, my field would still cover the area. I figured Lee had tried it once and found that out. He was not willing to put himself completely in my power, and that is what he would have to do to get to Lung and get him out of the cell.
I risked a blast at Lee, hoping to catch him by surprise. It worked, but all I caught was a clone. While the powder from that form settled, I scrambled as quickly as I could to the door of Lung's cell. I keyed it open and lunged inside.
"You can't get me without getting Lung too," I yelled. "You'll have to put yourself in my field to throw anything in here. And if I see you, I'll crush his skull."
Videos of me holding Lung by the neck had made their way around PRT censorship onto the net. Everyone knew I had almost killed Lung earlier. It was easy to think I might do it now, rather than letting him escape. I was not even sure if I would. But I kicked Lung to his knees and stood behind him, my left hand covering his mouth, pressing him back again my armored belly. My right gauntlet was pointed at the doorway. Ignoring my captives flailing fists, I was ready.
We waited. I tried to connect my helm to the corridor cameras, but the lighting grenades had messed up my system. I was hoping the gauntlets would still work.
I listened for any sounds. Nothing.
If he had another grenade that could take me down without killing Lung, or if he thought he did, I figured he would be popping into the doorway any second, betting on his reflexes over mine. Given that I got up after the three pain grenades, I hoped he would not count on those taking me down. I did not know if they would and did not want to find out.
So, I waited.
A large explosion rocked the building, but I did nothing.
After several minutes I heard Hollis calling my name.
"Nemesis. Orchid Alpha 449 Clooney. Respond."
"Hollis. Elephant Kappa 207 Hanks. Clear." I relaxed as Hollis, in full battle rattle peeked around the doorframe.
"Looks like we both live, for now," I said, stepping back and patting Lung on his head.
"You scared Lee off, but he took out most of the entrance to the building on the way out," Hollis said. "Stay with Lung. Transport is on the way."
"No!" the gang leader barked. "This is my city. You will not take me away. I am the only one that can stop Bakuda before she destroys everything."
"We'll just have to take that chance," Hollis replied.
Five minutes later I had Lung prepped for transport and was once again seated on the pull-down chair. Rebooting my helmet seemed to clear up most of the problems.
"Nemesis, we have transport on the roof. Begin transferring the prisoner. I'm on the way with backup."
"Copy that," I replied. "Looks like it's time to fly, Lung."
"You are dooming the city," he said flatly. "I only regret I may not be back in time to see it burn."
I led the gang leader out of holding, keeping my hand on his shoulder. Hollis had a squad of PRT agents behind her. Half preceded us through the halls and into the large elevator, the rest followed. On the roof we found a vehicle with the recognizable details common to Dragon's creations. It was quadrupedal with VTOL wings and a stylized dragon head nose.
"Fitting," I muttered. As I approached with the prisoner, the belly opened. Inside there was a plexiglass compartment with a complex chair. Outside of the compartment was a more normal space with two comfortable chairs with a table between them.
"Lock him in the box, then settle in," Hollis said. "You're going with him."
"What? No!" I replied.
"You think that box can hold him without you there? You want him to get away?" the agent barked, getting into my face.
"No…"
"Then shut up and follow orders."
I almost told her to fuck off. I was so tired of being treated like a machine – stored in a dark box until they needed me then plugged in and put to use. But Hollis was right. Lung was too powerful to expect even something Dragon built could hold him easily. If there was a chance he could get out, then he was still a danger to my dad. I had to go.
"Yes, Ma'am" I marched on to the craft and followed the visual directions on the screen to lock Lung into his short-term home. As soon as I closed the compartment door it locked, and a gas quickly filled the clear box. Lung stopped struggling after a minute or two. The belly door shut as I settled into my seat.
"Welcome to my transport, Nemesis."
I looked around and saw a woman's face on the screen on the wall opposite the box.
"Hello, Dragon." I replied. I had seen the face before on the news. "Please call me, Taylor."
"Very well, Taylor. Feel free to remove your helmet or any other part of your armor. I have charging ports available in this shelf." A panel slide open revealing the ports. I quickly plugged in my helmet and gauntlets. The craft was too small to comfortably remove my armor. Also, I was still guarding Lung and wanted to be prepared.
"How long is the trip?" I asked. I did not even know where we were going.
"It should be approximately 160 minutes. We're going to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. Lung has a standing sentence after several convictions in absentia. As the exact location is a secret, I cannot tell you more."
"No, that's fine. I understand. So almost three hours."
"Yes. Would you care for some inflight entertainment?"
"I've been stuck in my quarters for a week. I'm sick of books and movies. Do you have a deck of cards – virtual cards I guess unless you want to set the autopilot and come back here."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, but I can do virtual cards." The table lit up as a screen. "What's your preference?"
"How about gin?"
It was a surprisingly pleasant three hours. Dragon was a great conversationalist with a dry sense of humor and loads of stories about the various Protectorate and Guild heroes she had worked with over the years.
"We don't hear that much about the Guild in the States," I commented.
"That's not really surprising. I find that most Americans sort of forget Canada's there at all unless they're reminded. And the most famous members of the Guld are also members of the Protectorate, which is how most Americans probably think of us, if they think of us at all."
"Are all the Guild members Canadian?" I asked.
"Not anymore. We're more international at this point, although the majority are still from the Great White North."
Before we landed Dragon explained that the container that Lung was currently in would be removed from the flyer by robot arms and we would move to another location before I would be allowed off the craft. "More security, I'm afraid," she said, sounding apologetic.
"Are you sure I shouldn't come along, to keep him negated?" I inquired. That's why they sent me, I thought.
"This is standard procedure."
"Ok," I replied, my skepticism obvious.
I watched as the gas-filled box slid down out of the flyer. It took less than a minute then, according to Dragon, we took off again. I had yet to feel any sensation of motion during the trip.
"Where are we going now?" Home, I hoped.
"Commander Calvert has given instructions to take you to the Vancouver Protectorate headquarters."
"What?" I asked, shocked. "Can I talk to him, please." I tried to rein in my temper. Dragon had been nice so far and I did not want to take out my frustration on her.
"Calvert here." His face appeared on the screen besides Dragon. He looked at me for a moment then said, "Nemesis, have you delivered Lung?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then what's the issue? We are rather busy here right now." He sounded impatient. Like I was wasting his time.
"Why are you sending me to Vancouver rather than Brockton Bay?" I demanded.
"It's been decided you're too valuable an asset to risk in the uncertain environment currently prevalent in Brockton Bay. You are to spend the duration of this crisis training in Vancouver." He motioned like he was going to disconnect.
"No!" I snapped. "I'm going home."
"No, it's too dangerous."
"Exactly. I have to protect my father. Once the ABB know we birdcaged Lung, they'll be after Dad with everything they've got, just to punish me. I have to be there to keep him safe."
"It's out of the question. The PRT can protect your father. You're staying in Canada. That's an order." He looked at me like I was a tantruming toddler.
"Fuck you and fuck your order. I quit."