Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Seven
...
Adam stepped into the room and felt his whole body trembling. He didn't know exactly what he was feeling, and figured it was a mix of things, primarily anger and fear and disgust at seeing the person before him plugged into the screens like they were nothing more than a machine. Objectively, he'd known that the Super Bureau were experimenting on [unknown] but Adam hadn't expected to see it happening right in front of him.
"Are you all right?" he asked, wincing at the ridiculous question even as the words left his mouth.
There was no response on the screens or the super's face, and Adam wasn't entirely sure what to do. What if the Super Bureau's experiments had hurt [unknown] to the point where they couldn't respond? Though that didn't make sense considering his welcome message. Adam looked up at the screens and saw that one had a blank document opened, and on a tray table nearby, the keyboard lit up in a flow of colours.
Getting the hint, he moved to the keyboard and typed 'hello', and tried not to hold his breath as he waited for a response. Adam didn't have to wait for long as the cursor moved to the next line and words started to flow, far faster and smoothly than typing ever could.
Hello, Acidic. Please remove the wires from my head, I can do this without nodes, though I never let the Super Bureau know that. I trust you're here to save me and won't tell them?
He almost responded aloud, then remembered to type.
Of course I'm here to save you and I won't tell them! I'll take the nodes off now. Can you walk out of here with me?
His FitBit vibrated on his wrist, a new message appearing on the screen.
No. I have a wheelchair by the door.
Adam nodded firmly, and quickly and quietly started to remove all of the nodes. His fingers ached and were sticky with residue by the time he finished, but he ignored the sensation for now.
Realising he hadn't asked an important question, Adam typed 'what is your name?' and then hurried over to the wheelchair, even as his FitBit vibrated with the answer.
Subject 099. Name, parents, and history are all unknown. Any ideas?
Adam carefully lifted and placed [unknown] into the wheelchair, tugged the blanket off the bed, and covered their lap and bare feet. The child was small in the wheelchair, all hair removed as it had been for the orphans, and Adam had no idea if they had a preferred gender. As all of the screens were now seemingly infected with every computer virus known to man, Adam couldn't ask. Remembering his phone, he typed in a notes app instead, and wheeled them out into the corridor.
I don't know your preferred gender, but how about Barbara or Feldon? Agent 99 is better than 'subject' any day of the week.
Feldon is acceptable. Let's get out of here. I'm sending all of their files to your encrypted email address. I can start printing, if you want?
Yeah, go for it. If there's enough paper, at least. Any idea where to go from here? Adam asked, looking up and down the corridor. Left was back towards the guard he'd locked up, and right was uncertain territory.
Right. Lulu's illusions stop at a certain point, and we're on the level with the security office. My scientists got bored when I stopped responding to experiments, so they kept me in that room with a guard watching the screens. Don't worry, the guard still thinks I'm in there.
Adam swallowed hard. I saw one of the reports myself. Did they do something to your power?
They did plenty of things to my power, but I stopped responding on purpose. I was sick of them using me. Apart from everything, I'm all right, Feldon replied, and Adam felt a tension unwind from his shoulders that he hadn't even realised he'd held.
Good. Okay, I see the office. I'll park you here and be right back.
I'm not going anywhere :D
Adam grinned and tucked his phone into his pocket, then set Feldon's wheelchair tucked into an empty room's doorway to keep them safe from harm's way.
With a thought and burst of power, Adam's fists were covered in acid and he threw a large ball straight into the security room's access panel. It gave off a few meagre sparks and then the acid ate it away, continuing to eat away into the wall itself. It didn't take long for his acid to eat a brand new doorway into the wall, and Adam stepped inside the security office room. The security guards turned at the movement or new source of light, he wasn't sure, both of their eyes widening.
"Hey, who the hell are you?!"
Behind his mask, Adam grinned. "Acidic; who the hell are you?"
The other security guard went for their belt, but before they could pull the ray gun sitting at their side, Adam threw a handful of acid at their feet.
"C'mon now, we're talking, that's just rude. Stay where you are; you need to tell me a few things, and I need to see where they are on your screens. Oh, and get your hand away from the panic button, don't insult me like that. Hands on the desk, c'mon."
The first security guard put their hands on the desk, and the second reluctantly followed.
"Thank you. Now, where's Poison?" Adam murmured, looking at the screens without seeing Layla. "Is this all your cameras? No secret cameras in a hidden section or something? Oh, there are?" he said when the first security guard flinched. "Excellent, bring those up and hurry up about it."
"Carl," the second security guard hissed.
"No amount of pay is worth being burnt alive with acid, Corey," the first security guard hissed back at him.
"Stop, stop! Go back; there, that one! Where is it?" Adam asked, seeing Layla on the screen, her eyes glowing, and vines falling from her body in waves.
Carl and Corey looked at each other, then at Adam. "It's the nursery."
...
Pat was going to die and his cause of death was going to be a salesman. His headstone would read: Death by a Salesman. In fact, he had to be the world's worst salesman and Pat had no idea how this place was even in business, let alone how the inept salesman managed to sell any damn cars. It kind of, maybe, sort of explained why his mother wanted to buy it: to actually make it into a profitable business, but it still really didn't make sense. It did keep Pat occupied from thinking about the fate of his partners and friends, though.
"Ah, there she is! Did you enjoy your morning, my golden goose?"
Golden goose was a weird term of endearment to Pat's way of thinking, but he figured every couple had their weird nicknames. This one just happened to be one that he never wanted to be called, ever.
The woman approaching smiled broadly, stopping abruptly and putting out her hands to display her nails. They matched her orange dress perfectly, with French tips on the end. "Aren't they gorg, Bev?!"
"As beautiful as you are, Goldie. Now, I've been dealing with this customer all morning. A bit of a tough nut to crack. He's looking for a lotta room and a lotta speed."
"Did you show him the hearse?"
"I did, Goldie. No bites."
Pat wondered how long he had to stand there listening to the couple talking about him like he was invisible. He waited another five seconds, and just when he was ready to open his mouth and say something, Goldie turned to look at him.
She had the same shrewd way of looking him over that her husband did, but Goldie did it with a broad white-teethed, and bright orange-lipped smile. "Now, ain't you cute as a peach? Let's go see if we can't find something you'll like, shall we?"
"I've seen every car on the lot, so unless you're carrying another car around in your bag, I sincerely doubt you'll have anything. Your husband was talking about options for super additions, and how they could help with the speed or size?" Pat prompted.
Goldie looked over her shoulder with a fierce glare at her husband, and Bev gave a hesitant smile in response. She sighed, looped her arm through Pat's, and patted his hand. "Let's go talk in the back, shall we? There's a few cars I keep away from others that are, say... less worthy than your fine self," Goldie said with another smile, patting closer to his wrist and his Gruebel Forsey watch.
Less rich, Pat translated, barely refraining from rolling his eyes or checking that he was still wearing his watch.
He was steered through the Employees Only door and led into a garage where people were working in, beneath, or in one case, on top of various cars. Looking back, Pat realised the door was more than a doorway, it was an actual portal of some sort to move between spaces or distances. There was certainly no garage on the lot when he and his Mam had driven past, and the sun was even in a different position.
"Where are we?"
"Super Motors garage. This is where the real magic happens... If you're willing to pay for it, of course."
"I'd be interested in seeing the prices and services you offer before agreeing to anything."
In the showroom behind them, a phone began to ring, loud and incessant. Goldie paled on hearing the ringtone and gave a brief and guilty smile to Pat. "If you'll excuse me, that's the ringtone for an emergency; I'll be right back. Why don't you look at the cars we have available?" she asked over her shoulder, already hurrying back through the door to answer her phone. "Good afternoon, Mr. A... No, of course not... Well, no, I haven't seen the news all morning... It crashed?! I am sorry to hear that... No, you... It's not our fault! The AI has nothing to do with it! Well... yes, it drives the car, but... no... yes... you aren't serious?! Well, I never!"
"Everything all right, my golden goose?"
"Of course not, Bev! We just lost the contract with Mr. A! He's blaming us for their car crashing!" Goldie hissed, glancing over to the doorway where Pat was still standing.
Pat busied himself with actually looking at the cars, rather than eavesdropping, and stopped in front of a familiar shape. In fact, if he wasn't certain that Nigel was back in Maxville and transporting several infants along with the Spinner Sisters, Pat would have assumed that they'd stolen Nigel outright. The limousines the Morton family owned were normal limos, for the most part, but after Quentin's additions with the AI components and features to keep them safe, the shapes of the cars were extremely distinct.
Pat remembered Brie being featured in a car magazine, mostly because Nigel had pouted about it while Quentin was repairing him. The article itself had been more about Morton Holdings than the car: apart from the discussion of the distinct and recognisable shape of the Morton automobiles, the fact that the designs and AI installations were a well-kept and -guarded secret was pointed out. It was actually the first time that Ellie had confirmed their cars even had AI, but Pat had assumed Morton Holdings were preparing to sell it mass-market.
Like a key unlocking a vault door, this takeover suddenly started to make more sense. A yard full of cars that were perfect to test or launch AI-driven cars to the public, and with what he'd overheard in the conversation with Mr. A, the company would be desperate to sell before they were brought to ruin by the Super Bureau seeking revenge or compensation. While his mother probably hadn't predicted that part, it certainly helped for a takeover.
Goldie returned to the garage and stopped beside Pat. She didn't look quite as chirpy or bright as she had been only minutes ago, but had clearly decided that he was bleeding in a pool of water and she was a hungry shark. "Ah, I see one's caught your eye! Ooh, this is an excellent choice; a Morton look-alike always turns heads, especially outside of Maxville. Now, this does have some limitations in comparison to the famed Morton limousine, but it also has some inclusions that I'm sure no one in the Morton family has ever thought of," Goldie said. "It has all the room you were wanting, and the speed can be adjusted with a super horsepower engine. That's an extra fee, you understand."
"Hmm. And what are the inclusions you've included? Are those extra fees, too?" Pat asked.
Goldie smiled, bright and broad, and whatever had been hanging over her with the call from Mr. A clearly disappeared with the prospect of a large well-paid sale in her future. "Well, the armoured plating isn't strictly necessary for civilian vehicles, but it always feels better to be safe, don't you think? Then there's - "
Goldie cut off suddenly, and in his pocket, Pat's FitBit - sans the wristband to be less conspicuous - vibrated as time stopped around him. Resetting the timer, Pat slipped it back into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Taking photos of the garage around him, including closeups of not-Nigel, and the portal doorway from every possible angle, Pat then went to look for an office where they'd keep the schematics for things like a super horsepower engine, and a limousine that looked almost exactly like a Morton's patented automobile.
He hoped everyone was doing well in Montana, and was going to keep busy until he returned to Maxville where they'd hopefully return safe and sound.
...
Corvin wasn't fast enough.
Gravity helped, but the wind pushed at him, he was already behind the knife in the first place, and even as a raven, his body wasn't designed to plummet towards the knife like this. He couldn't even call out to Robin to get them to move because his throat felt like it was closing up and the wind would have destroyed his words anyway.
Move faster, move, move, move!
Corvin was so concentrated on the knife and Robin's stupid goddamn X on the ground - he was going to talk to them about the appropriate time to resort to goddamn cartoon logic, and potential life or death situations sure as fuck weren't the right time! - that he didn't see the yellow bus careening across the desert until it slammed to a stop beside Robin abruptly. The falling knife bounced off the roof harmlessly, and Corvin almost fainted out of pure relief.
He came to a stop with a flutter of wings and landed on the bus roof, his heart and the noise from the wind settling, only to be replaced by the shallow gasps of someone dying. Fuck, he knew that sound far too well, despite how long it had been since he'd watched his Aunt Sylvie die. He shifted back to human form and slipped off the roof, the sudden and unexpected reminder of Aunt Sylvie and the rest of his family bringing a tear to his eyes. He wiped at his eyes quickly and boarded the bus to see what was going on and if he could help.
Craig was behind him a few seconds later, and they both stared helplessly as Mal gripped Robin's hands with her own blood-covered hands. Grant's negation wave had reformed her melted form, and it was obvious that Mal had lost a lot of blood between then and now.
"Tell them I'm sorry, okay? And to look after each... each other. I can't tell them off anymore," Mal sniffled, eyes filled with tears, tracks sliding down her cheeks. "Say goodbye to my family, and - "
"Hey, you're not dying. The bullet moved, and there's a lot of blood, but you're gonna be okay, okay? Craig, can you melt Mal down again?" Robin asked, tears in their eyes and their voice trembling.
Craig looked uncertain for a moment, the ability to shift already difficult enough considering he was a copy of Craig, let alone with his boyfriend's power covering the whole damn state. He swallowed hard and nodded. It took a precious minute for him to shift into Ethan's form, and he nudged past Corvin and Robin to move beside Mal. Craig carefully pried Mal's hands off Robin. "Hey, it's okay. I'm going to melt you into me this time, okay? It'll keep you safe," he said, not entirely sure if he was lying or not, and hoping like fuck he wasn't.
Mal didn't look like she believed him either way, but nodded. "Nigel?"
"Yes, Miss Maleah?" Nigel responded instantly.
"Be nicer to Pat. Please?"
There was a brief second of pause, as though Nigel had to think about it. "I will, Miss Maleah. It is against my programming."
Maleah gave a soft laugh and smiled up at Craig. "Go on, Cee, I trust you."
Craig nodded, concentrated with Ethan's form and Ethan's power, and carefully melted Maleah down into his hand.
"Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Robin snapped, kicking at a broken seat. "Poe, get Cee two inside so we don't lose Mal over a stupid damn ray gun if they start working again, okay? I'll be fine. Go," they said.
Corvin watched as Craig struggled to change back to his original copy - whatever luck they'd had with his copy surviving Grant's negation wave was clearly wearing off - and then nodded, shifting to his raven form after a moment of difficulty. It was like shifting while wearing a straight jacket and wading through molasses, like Grant's power was only getting stronger with every passing minute, and Corvin had to let his feathers settle for a moment before he could bring himself to fly into the air. Craig took two full minutes to turn into a frog, and as soon as he could scoop him into his talons, Corvin flew out of the bus and back towards the building.
Your friend is slowly dying from blood loss while melted into another friend who is struggling to keep his shift in shape. How long until your friends die in your talons and it's all your fault?
...
Walter was led through the debris and chaos of what remained of the police station's foyer. Several police officers had been injured and were wearing stark white bandages across various parts of their faces and bodies. Walter saw a few civilians still being treated for their own wounds, and realised from the sucker marks on their skin that Ocky had made good on his promise to get revenge on the police station. Back in the 90s, Ocky had challenged the Commander and Jetstream, but had been arrested before he had a chance. Walter still thought it was Ocky's own fault for trying to rob the police station's armoury in the first place, but knew better than to voice such an opinion in front of the other villain.
A larger swathe of white caught his attention and Walter looked over to see Zephyr in power-repressing cuffs and looking windswept. He almost looked happy, like the destruction and mayhem had been worth every minute of his freedom. Lash was a few seats down, chained as well as cuffed, and Walter saw Mia square her shoulders as she walked past him, Lash grinning and waving sarcastically despite his predicament.
Further into the station, more people had already been processed and were already in cells. Walter let out a small sigh of relief when he saw that neither Ivan nor Speed were among the captured. Hercules, who had been sued by Disney and then caught by the Commander and Jetstream after unsuccessfully trying to take over 'the happiest place on Earth', was sobbing into his hands. Beside him, Layer was muttering something under their breath over and over, seemingly ignoring their surroundings. Layer was still an odd one to Walter's mind, but when you got to know them, they had a sweeter side to their odd nature; he would hate to see them punished unjustly by the system any more than they already had been. There were others he caught glimpses of as he was led to Detective Alan Fisher's desk to be processed, but while some were smiling and happy about their unexpected day out, others looked hurt or straight-up terrified. He was sure he'd seen poor Gargoyle staring down at his cuffs like he was trying to break his wrists to get out of them. Again.
"Sit down and we'll get started with the processing. I'm sure a lot of it's changed since the last time you were captured," Fisher admitted with a wry grin, sitting in front of his computer.
"I woke up in a prison hospital; I wasn't awake for any processing back then," Walter said, careful of his wording.
"No, I imagine not. Kid, uh, Mia, go get ice for your eye, it's going to swell shut otherwise."
"We're meant to stay together when processing a super, Fisher," she hissed at him, clearly trying not to undermine him in front of Walter.
Fisher sighed, glanced at his watch, then looked at her. "If you get ice for your eye now, it won't be swollen so much that you can't drive to your date at 5pm. The Wickedness promises not to hurt me, don't you, Walter?" he added.
"Of course I wouldn't hurt you; you're a civilian and I'm a villain of honour," he said firmly.
The reporters had loved that line back in the 80s. His dear Olive had tried to get him out of prison despite his deal with Captain Stronghold, and when that deal stayed strong, she'd worked for months to get the public to see him as an honourable man. It hadn't worked despite her best efforts, time, and money spent on the campaign because the public all believed he'd killed a woman. Walter had refused to let Olive try again; she had more important things to worry about, namely their Timothy walking and starting to talk, and he knew the public's perception of him wouldn't change, even if Captain Stronghold himself told the truth. Well, he'd outlived the bastard now, and was still getting his money, so Walter called that a win.
Mia looked doubtful, but the expression that accompanied that doubt pulled on her swollen muscles and bruised face, and she hurried to get an ice pack.
"Right. I'll fill in all of the details so the paperwork is over and done with, but only if you tell me what that pledge thing was about," Fisher said firmly.
Walter hadn't realised that Fisher had heard him, and wasn't entirely sure if those children had meant to keep the whole thing secret. They were to provide a distraction, which they'd done above and beyond, if you asked Walter - at least, from what he'd seen of the streets of Maxville as he'd been driven round office chairs, debris from a bank, overturned cars, and a giant hole that went through a building several stories up. He wondered if anyone else had said anything or tried to get a reduced sentence by turning over the people who had set them free. It wasn't anything he could ask Fisher, despite his interest in the subject, and Walter figured that just like Captain Stronghold, this was another situation where it was best to stay silent. It made sense to not say anything, especially if the people really were going to break them out again soon enough.
Walter shook his head and gave a small shrug. "Let's get started with the paperwork, Detective Fisher; I've got all the time in the world."
...
Zach had been split off from Wendy and Donny when the first Rubik's cube had happened. He'd stuck with Baby and Killer until they left to fight with Warren, and now he and Milo were wandering the empty hallways in an attempt to find people to rescue. It was creepier than the orphanage despite - or perhaps because - of the fact that no one was around.
"Your glowing isn't helping the creepazoid factor, Blaze," Milo muttered beside him, the eerie greenish glow casting odd shadows down the hallway.
"I'm not powering down unless I have to, Globe," Zach said, and then Grant's negation wave hit them both.
"Okay, this is worse," Milo said as the corridor dimmed to a horror movie level of lighting when Zach's light was forced to turn off, and his own power was muted.
"I don't think the wave is stopping here," Zach murmured in the darkness, reaching a hand out ahead of him. He couldn't imagine what it would be like for the rest of the supers who didn't have brands.
"How far do you think it'll go?" Milo asked curiously. "Reckon it could cover the world?"
"That'd suck. Well, for others at least," Zach said, feeling heat and thorns on his shoulder, as though prompting him to power up. "Hold on, I gotta concentrate," he said, his glow slowly flickering to life once more.
As the darkness faded and a greenish light revealed the corridor once more, Milo and Zach both screamed as a person appeared in front of them.
"Super Jesus, shut up, it's just me," Terrence said.
"Where the hell did you come from?"
"I got rearranged while I was looking for the security office."
"No, I mean, that corridor ended. There was a wall there like thirty seconds ago," Milo said, hurrying forward to look at the new rooms, touching the doors with a frown.
"Oh. I only just got into this hallway with the last reshuffle, so I don't know about the rest of it," Terrence said, looking down the corridor.
"Weren't you helping Bolt?" Zach asked, frowning.
"Yeah, she's got Champ helping, so I was trying to find the security office. We lost Poison and Molten on the screens."
"What?!" Zach asked, a flare of bright light speeding down the corridors and filling the rooms through whatever gaps light could travel.
"Ow, fuck, my eyeballs."
"Super Jesus, warn us before you do that!"
Zach didn't answer Milo or Terrence's complaints, too caught up in what it might mean if Ethan didn't show up on the cameras. Maybe he'd just melted down and was disguised in a bucket or something?
He didn't get a chance to think of any more reassurances as further down the corridor, a door opened and a person stepped out.
520, just recently fucked up by the Super Bureau's machine, stepped into the corridor and smiled. Her smile was odd, like her facial muscles had forgotten how to do the action. Zach mused that Milo was right: his greenish glow certainly didn't help matters. He let out a yelp of surprise as 520 charged straight at them without warning. Her wrist was adorned with a power-repressing cuff, a red blinking light slowly speeding up until it glowed with such a ferocity that it almost overtook Zach's own greenish glow in the hallway.
"What are you doing? Move!" Milo yelled, grabbing Zach's arm and trying to pull him along.
"We can power up, she can't," Zach called back, planting his feet and glowing brighter.
"Grant's wave's got nothing to do with that thing on her wrist," Terrence called, already several metres down the hallway.
"Or the knife in her hand! Move it!" Milo pulled on Zach's arm again.
Zach glanced down and saw his light glinting off a sharp dagger in her hand. Oh, shit.
520 didn't wait for the realisation to kick in the blonde boy's flight or fight instincts, simply lifting and throwing the dagger in the same instant. It hit him with a satisfying thud, but she hadn't been fast enough as he'd started to turn, and the dagger only hit his shoulder rather than his heart. The boy let out a soft gasp of pain, eyes wide behind his mask and his mouth dropping into an 'o' of shock. Then he grinned and started laughing, and even despite 520's ... enhancements ... she paused as a chill ran up her spine at the sound.
Zach laughed as the dagger embedded into his left shoulder, right on his brand, and laughed harder as the fire and vines engulfed the feeling of pain. There had been a brief moment of pain, but it had faded all too quickly, and he hadn't even had time to appreciate the brief flare before it had dissipated entirely. He vaguely heard Milo reporting via the walkie talkie that he'd been stabbed, but didn't focus on the rest of the conversation. Knowing to leave the knife in a stab wound warred with his immediate desire to take it out and throw it right back at his opponent. He kept it in for the moment, and ran forward before she could bring out any more sharp or pointy things and hurt his friends. Figuring they'd forgive him for not warning them, Zach lit up in a brighter blaze, his light flooding out in a wave and blinding everyone else around him. It was temporary, like the bright flash of a thousand cameras, but it was more than enough time for him to knock the woman over and tie her up using the rope in his hip bag.
Even tied up and gagged, she bucked and writhed in an attempt to get free, and Zach stood back to survey his handiwork.
"This is the one and only time I'm grateful to know you've got a rope kink, Blaze," Terrence said with a snicker, even as he rubbed at his eyes still recovering from the light.
"It's not a rope kink, shut up. Uh... what's going on?" he asked, frowning over at where Milo was creating bubbles out of what looked to be thin air, which he shouldn't have been able to do even with his power increase.
"Molten heard you got stabbed, came over here to help, then saw you were okay, and agreed to let Globe redirect him through the building in bubble form," Terrence said, and Zach saw the remainder of the puddle that was his boyfriend.
The memory of what happened when Ethan was turned into bubbles still felt like it was burnt into his brain, and Zach did a full-body shudder at the visceral reminder. As the person not dealing with the outcome of Ethan and Milo's deadly combination, Zach didn't stay icked for long. "Thanks for coming to rescue me, Molten! Have fun!"
There was no response from the puddle or bubbles, but Milo gave a blood-curdling laugh that sent another shudder through Zach's body.
"I'll deal with the knife if you deal with her?" Zach asked Terrence, nodding down at 520.
"Deal. How are you not screaming in pain right now, anyway?" Terrence asked, coercing an electronic flatbed trolley to move out of a nearby room and down the corridor towards them.
"Brand took the pain. I can barely tell it's in there."
Terrence manoeuvred the woman onto the trolley and kept his attention on the corridor while Zach pulled the knife free and put a square gauze over the sluggishly bleeding wound. "Uh, Blaze, Globe? We've got company," he said, frowning as he saw the man arriving at the end of the corridor.
Similar to the woman on the trolley, the man was wearing a white tunic and pants, but he had a look of awareness in his face that she hadn't. He approached slowly with his hands raised, one wrist adorned with a power-repressing cuff with a blinking red light.
"Whoa, stay right there. Who the fuck are you?" Terrence asked.
The man stopped, hands still held up, and as Zach's glow settled on him, they could see his arms covered in tattoos. "I'm Subject... I'm Kai. That's my wife, Jean. She didn't mean to attack you; she doesn't know what she's doing. They... they brainwashed her or something, I don't know, but... it's not her. She's never hurt anyone, not even when they... they... " Kai attempted to finish his sentence, but the words were stuck in his throat and he couldn't say them aloud because then the memories would overwhelm him, too.
"Hey, it's all right, Kai. We get it. She did throw this knife at me, but I believe you. Where'd you come from? Are there others?" Zach asked, hoping the questions would calm Kai and give him something to focus on.
He nodded, sniffling, and clearing his throat. "The cells are down this corridor; they rearranged all of the prisoners out of the way, but no one can power up, even though we were just in the experimental phase. I'm guessing that's your doing, since they didn't set off the building's power repressors."
Terrence stumbled and caught himself. "The building's what?"
"They turn it on if there's a power they can't control, and the super with that power gets dropped into the basement. It happened to my last partner, gave me nightmares for weeks," Kai said, shaking his head.
"Can you take Jean downstairs to the lobby? If you're right about the brainwashing, then she's not likely to recognise you, and you'll need to keep the rope on her."
"What's in the lobby?" Kai asked, stepping forward.
"A bus," Terrence and Zach said with grins.
"And... you're just letting me take her without a fuss?" Kai asked, stepping closer still, his glance dropping to the knife that Zach was still holding in his hand.
"Oh, you're right. Do you have any way of proving this is your wife? We really shouldn't hand people over to random people we just met," Zach mused.
"She's got a tattoo... uh, no, not that one, she'd kill me even without the brainwashing. Jean's got a tattoo of a butterfly on her left shoulder blade. It was one she got as a teenager; she keeps saying she's going to cover it up but never gets around to it," he added with a brief smile.
Terrence carefully tugged Jean's tunic aside to check her shoulder, saw a butterfly as described, and nodded before sending the trolley over to Kai. "If you try to betray us, you won't live to regret it."
Kai swallowed hard, but nodded firmly in response. "Understood."
Zach and Terrence both watched as Kai left, guiding his wife and the trolley further down the hallway and towards the elevators. Once he was out of sight, Terrence let out a huff of breath and shook his hands out. "Super Jesus, how do villains stay intimidating for so long? I was shaking in my super suit."
"Yeah, I'm not big on confrontation, either. You did good, Electro. Hey, Globe, want to go down to the cells and release everyone with us?" Zach called.
"Hell, yes. I sent Molten up to the fighting level," Milo said with another laugh. This time it was less of an evil cackle and more of a devious chuckle.
"He's not going to hit our friends, is he?" Terrence asked in alarm.
Milo shrugged as they headed down towards the cells. "They know to dodge."
...
End of the hundred and ninety-seventh chapter.
Thanks for reading!
