Chapter 12: Sinners and Saviors
In a shadow draped room of hadean violet, a snake had sprawled herself over a throne of bones. Her hanging leg and tail swayed leisurely while her hands were folded over her serpentine belly. Her other self was sitting less comfortably on the platform's steps in spite of the empty chair beside her twin.
"It's like I always told you, hostie," the elevated Elise said, "we were only ever one step from victory. You just had to let loose, embrace your power."
"It doesn't feel like victory," the other Elise said, "and it doesn't feel like power, not for me."
The enthroned Elise let her arm slide off her stomach and hang. Her long sleeve drooped over her fingers. She sighed and sat up straight.
"Well, sulking in the corner doesn't exactly help those feelings, does it?" she said. "Won't you take your throne, Elise? I made it for you."
"You haven't made anything," the other Elise said, "just killed and destroyed."
"Are you still so dense?" alter Elise said. "That's how it all works. The old goes away for the new to take its place. People die to feed the flowers that feed the animals that feed the people so that the people can die to feed the flowers again. Life from death: it's our whole thing, remember?"
"B-but don't we live for something more?" the other Elise said. "When does the life start?"
"I know, Elise. I know," the alter said. "You've been waiting a long, long time, but it's only just beginning."
The alter Elise stepped down from her throne and offered her hand to her original self.
"I promise," the alter said, "I'll put you over everything."
The lower Elise took her hand and went up the stairs with her. Together, they looked at the empty thrones, the bones adorning them like ivory. The shyer Elise reached tentatively and touched the throne, but as soon as she lay her hand on the skeletal fingers of the arm composing the armrest, she drew her hand back.
"It-it isn't right," she said.
The alter Elise looked closely at her mirror's face. She thought she understood her host's hesitation. If the weaker Elise took the throne, she would be owning that it was the result of her own actions. The alter took her by the shoulders.
"Elise," she said, "just sit in the damn chair."
She plopped her mirror self into the seat.
"You earned this," the alter Elise said.
The first Elise shrunk into her seat while the alter spread across hers.
"Remember everyone who used to judge you?" the alter said. "For your power? For your weakness? Just because you were different? Now, you're the judge. Of the living and the dead. Salvation and damnation in our own hands."
The other Elise said nothing to the alter. What an annoyance her original self was. She could only see so many of her gifts taken sourly before she began to take offense herself. Luckily, the sound of three pairs of footsteps echoing down the deathly chamber offered her a distraction.
"We lost Teseo," one of the three said, "if we should even call that a loss."
"Yes," the alter Elise said. "I felt his soul departing. Even as a spirit, he makes himself hard to ignore."
"It's too bad," the second of the group said. "Even knowing he had rotten blood, I was hoping I'd get the chance to rip it out of him."
"He was a threat to the natural order," the third said. "The world is better without him."
"The real question," Elise said, "is whether he and Merak accomplished their purpose."
"They served up the adept data on a silver platter," the first of the group said. "Our enemies' heads never made it to the plate."
"Well, that is unfortunate," Elise said, "but fortune will make no difference in the long game. Soon, we'll have more than bodies to throw at them; an army of adepts will rise at our call. What of Kirin?"
The other Elise perked up at the mention of the priestess's name.
"That's the weird part," the second of the trio said. "They broke her alright. We watched her go totally feral, but somehow, she came back out of it."
"She what?" Elise said. "How could she…."
"Her primal essence is no longer in check," the third of the group said. "It's only a matter of time before nature takes its course."
With her elbow on her throne's arm, the alter Elise tapped her finger against her cheek.
"We didn't take enough," she said at length. "She has to lose everything. She has to lose it all while she's utterly helpless."
With venom in her features, Elise stood and addressed her followers.
"You three," she hissed, "put the safe zones under siege. Starve their supplies, drain their strength, and drown their hopes. Divide the Dragon Saviors, and make them mine, one by one. Slaughter them until she's left alone. Then, nothing will stand in the way of our utopia. Now, go."
Elise returned to her seat of power while her servants bowed out and departed to dispatch their grim orders. The other Elise, however, continued to sit quietly, drawing herself deep into thought.
"Could it really be?" she thought. "Could you really have felt my darkness?"
. . . . . . . . . .
The rhythmic thump of Zeno's head against the concrete wall echoed through the storage room serving as he and Copen's holding cell. Copen was rummaging through the junk on the shelves for anything he could make into a viable weapon. He weighed a tire iron in his hands: a sufficient tool to defend against a common mugger, but the brutish delinquent guarding the door could probably break it with his bare hands.
Copen growled in frustration and, letting it clang against the pile of other metal parts, dropped the iron. He would need more than a prison shank to get by Summeragi's elite, never mind the zombie hoards outside. If only he could have activated Lola, Copen would have taken them all on without a second thought, but with Teseo's malware still lingering in her system, he didn't dare to bring her back online.
"Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap," Zeno said to the beat of his head thumps.
"Would you shut up?" Copen hissed.
"It's all over, dude," Zeno said. "They're gonna kill us."
"No thanks to you," Copen said. "We might have stood a chance if you hadn't wasted all my Greed Snatchers. Those things take a lot of R&D."
"You really were gonna shoot me, weren't you?" Zeno asked.
"In the foot, if I could help it," Copen answered.
"Screw you, man," Zeno said, "and screw your stupid revolver, too."
"My father made that gun," Copen said. "It was the last thing he left me."
Zeno stopped banging his head against the wall.
"Guess that makes it a memento mori for both of us," he said
Copen also stopped trying to dismantle the shelf.
"Where did you get the Border from?" he asked.
"C'mon," Zeno said. "You're the one who lost it. You should know who had it last."
Copen stared at Zeno incredulously. As Zeno returned his stare sidelong, Copen's eyes widened. Zeno's glasses: Copen hadn't considered it because the frames were shaped differently, but the lenses were the exact same shade as the ones worn by the man who had attacked him on his way off the Firmament station. Only Nori's interference had kept him from death that day. The sample Copen had scoured from the bloodstained glasses had allowed him to create the AS drive, Lola's core. Zeno's eyes were nearly as cold as the ones Copen had looked into while he was staring down the barrel of an anti-material rifle.
"The other striker," Copen said.
"He was my team leader," Zeno explained. "Gunvolt killed him."
The morbid statement, having sounded coldly off the musty walls, lingered between them for a moment.
"That made me team leader for a while," Zeno continued, "not that there was much of a team left. Thought I'd live for his legacy. Keep the fight alive for QUILL. But after a while, I found there were better things to live for. Guess that's over now."
Copen watched intently as Zeno put his head back against the wall. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, he let his lips fall back together. Copen knew that legacy was a heavy weight to fall on a young man's shoulders. Men like them never quite walked straight when they grew old.
. . . . . . . . . .
The Dragon Saviors, aside from Cayman, sat quietly among the blinking lights of the control room. Only the crackle of Shiron's keyboard passed through the empty air where a hologram would project from the room's center once he restored the satellites. Kirin, at Apollo's advice, had taken the opportunity to dress her wounds and clean up. Upon returning from the shower, she had resolved to tell the others everything.
So it was that they sat together in the desk chairs lining the rows of blank monitors. Kirin's staff leaned against the nearest desk as her wet hair shadowed her face. She had to look at the floor, to gaze back into the abyss, while she told most of the story. BB, as if he were watching the same terrible play unfold, had his eyes fixed on the same square of tile while his hat hung limp from his hand. Apollo's attentive eyes stayed on Kirin's face while Shiron lowered the half-on headset that banded his chestnut hair down to his neck. Cayman, though absent, had his comms open, and so, he listened stoically with the rest.
"So, you really went all the way?" BB said. "Full-on primal dragon?"
"It felt like I was already gone," Kirin said. "Like there was no light left to look for. . . . I gave up."
"But you were wrong," Apollo said. "You were still there to pull yourself back out."
"Thanks to you," she said.
"We all lose sight of the truth sometimes," Apollo said.
"Apollo's right," Shiron added. "Sometimes, I think about so many things that could go wrong, it feels impossible for anything good to happen. But, when I look back, I realize that it's never really that bad, especially when it comes to you guys. And even if it was, it was worth it to keep going."
"I know," Kirin said. "I just messed up so bad this time."
"No one's strong all the time," Cayman said, "but whenever I feel weak, that's when I know I'm getting stronger."
"Kirin," Apollo said.
When Kirin met Apollo's eyes, she saw that he had taken off his glasses.
"I know what it's like to feel your hands stained," he said, "but what I did, I chose. Hear me, Kirin; none of this was your fault. GV was not your fault."
Kirin's eyes stung instantly. She covered her face with her hand to keep the tears from wetting the floor. Though she contained the sobs better than she had before, her shoulders still heaved in response to the pricks of a couple sharp, short breaths. BB rolled his chair closer and laid his hand on her shoulder.
"We all got our second chances from you," he said. "It's time you got yours, too. I mean, what else am I here for?"
After a moment longer, Kirin steadied herself and wiped her face.
"Thank you," she said, "all of you. I'll keep going. We'll see this fight out to the end. Together."
Kirin leaned back, sighed, and stood.
"Well," she said, "I think that's enough about me. What are we going to do with those other two?"
"Those two are loose cannons," Apollo said. "We were able to point them in the right direction once, but we'd be taking a serious risk to trust them again. I recommend that we hand them off for safekeeping as soon as comms are reestablished."
"On that note," Shiron said, "I think I just got it. Heck, there's an incoming transmission right now."
Shiron answered the call, but the moment the caller's face showed up on his screen, Shiron nearly jumped out of his chair.
"Wha– you again?" he said.
"What's up?" BB said. "Who is it?"
With an exasperated look, Shiron rolled his chair back and patched the audio into their comms.
"Kirin," he said, "it's for you."
. . . . . . . . . .
Nori had told her everything. That was why Mytyl couldn't lift her eyes from the floor. Nori awaited the inevitably painful response that she, as custodian of secrets, was due, but Mytyl was long in her silence. Nori took a better look at the floor herself.
The carpet lined the sanctuary with a deep red hue. More than one of the survivors seeking asylum there had come in bloody and, subsequently, dripped some of their crimson essence into that house of peace. Though the interior designers had probably chosen the color for more symbolic reasons, Nori applauded their foresight. It masked the blood near perfectly, kept the panic of wounds from spreading as quickly. Mytyl's white shirt hadn't fared so well; she was never going to wash that stain out.
"So, I'm an adept?" Mytyl said. "I'm the thing that he and dad hated so much?"
"Your father could never hate you," Nori said. "Neither could Copen. He… he only–"
"Is that why he won't see me?" Mytyl said. "He's ashamed of me?"
"No," Nori answered. "No, he only wanted to protect you."
The hanging strands of Mytyl's hair trembled as she turned to Nori. The look in her eyes was like broken glass: shattered and sharp.
"Protect me?" Mytyl said. "If he wanted to protect me, he would be here. He's protecting himself from me! I thought he died for me, and he doesn't even care enough to tell me he's alive?"
"Your brother–"
"He left me to think my whole family was dead when I didn't even know who I was!" Mytyl continued. "God, I made a shrine for him!"
"Mytyl–"
"And you let me," Mytyl said. "You let him do that to me?"
Nori was stunned. Mytyl had never spoken so harshly to anyone, certainly not to Nori.
"I wanted him to stay," Nori said. "I tried to tell him–"
"Actually," Mytyl said, "I don't want to hear it. How long have you been lying to me?"
When Mytyl roared that accusing question at Nori, she noticed the slightest tremble at the corner of Nori's mouth. So inflexible was the usual expression of Nori's face that Mytyl couldn't help but realize the pain she was causing her caretaker. Though her hands remained folded in her lap, Nori turned away and hung her head as she gave her answer.
"Too long," she said.
With Nori's shoulders at a different angle, Mytyl saw the edge of Nori's gash.
"I'm sorry," Mytyl said. "It's just… hard to trust you right now."
Nori turned back toward her mistress.
"I can't blame you," she said.
"Go get your back looked at," Mytyl said. "Just… give me some time."
"As you wish," Nori said.
Mytyl only looked at Nori's passing shadow as she got up and walked down the aisle. When Nori had taken several steps, Mytyl brushed aside her hair and watched her go. The zombie's claws must have dug well into Nori's back. Those claws had been reaching for Mytyl's own neck, after all.
Mytyl had never felt so shameful. As if learning that she was the exact thing her supposedly deceased brother and actually departed father hated the most weren't enough, the discovery that the one person she trusted most had always been a liar pulled the ground out from under Mytyl. Even so, Nori had always been there for her, even after Copen left. Even if Copen hadn't really died for her, Nori nearly had. What thanks Mytyl had given her.
Mytyl looked deeply into the coagulated blood of Nori's scars. The moment Nori went out of sight, Mytyl looked down at the same blood staining her shirt. She cradled her face in her hands. Her hair, white as a blank page, veiled her face while the prismatic, stained glass windows cast their shifting hues over her.
. . . . . . . . . .
The face on the screen came into focus as Kirin stepped around Shiron's chair.
"Son of a bitch," she whispered.
The camera was focused on a tall throne with a hieroglyphic emblem emblazoned on its back. Upon it sat a dignified young man in an embroidered, black coat. The tufts of his bright red hair proceeded like rays from his warmly smiling face. Once more, the Dragon Saviors had meritted the attention of a prince.
"Greetings, Kirin," Zed said. "Always a pleasure to see your face, though I do wish the occasion were better."
"Zed," Kirin hissed. "To what do we owe the honor?"
"I've been trying to contact you for some time," Zed said, "but the signal appeared to be jammed. Luckily, your technology expert reestablished the link. You did well to recruit her talents."
"I am a man!" Shiron roared. "I have a d–"
BB clapped his hand over Shiron's mouth and pulled him away from the screen.
"We know, buddy," BB said. "We know you do."
Kirin braced her hands on the desk and leaned into the screen.
"What do you want?" she said.
"Straight to business," Zed remarked. "Good to see your mind is still as sharp as your sword."
Zed uncrossed his legs and leaned forward as well. Evidently, the thought of the discussion cast a cloud over his smile.
"I've just come from an emergency council of world leaders on the topic of your country's current crisis," he said. "Our anti-barrier technology was a major topic of discussion. I'm pleased to inform you that we've negotiated a deal to drop a plethora of supplies and aid to your safe zones. Consider it an early Christmas present."
"I always believed in you, Santa!" BB said.
Kirin and Apollo looked less convinced of the favorable tidings. Zed's posture indicated he had more to say.
"And what else came of these negotiations?" Apollo said.
"It was also necessary to agree upon a contingency," Zed said, "should the situation turn for the worse. I protested the plan. However…."
"Zed," Kirin said. "What did you do?"
"I…. Well, it may suffice to say that my septima was not the only nuclear option discussed."
Everyone froze, breathless, as if they had just stared into the gorgon's eye.
"What?" Kirin said.
"The Americans have agreed to give my organization a number of high-yield warheads," Zed explained, "to fit them with anti-barrier generators. The intent being to, well, prepare for a scorched earth strike on Japan."
Kirin staggered back a step. Apollo set down his glasses and wiped the sweat from his nose.
"This worst case scenario," Apollo said, "how was it defined? How long do we have?"
"The plan is set in place to prevent the septima wave from spreading into other countries should the Kamishiro barrier fail. Therefore, the trigger point is the moment the septima wave becomes powerful enough to make landfall on mainland Asia, which, based on simulations–"
At Shiron's direction, the holographic map in the center of the room flashed on.
"Two days," Shiron said.
"At sunset," Zed elaborated. "That's how long you have to cut out the source of the infection."
"Jesus Christ," Cayman whispered gruffly.
"I trust you've identified your target?" Zed said.
"We have," Kirin said, "but the satellite jamming set us back on her location."
"I see," Zed said. "I have faith in you, so I'll be doing everything in my power to support you."
"I might be thanking you," Kirin said, "if you hadn't just threatened to nuke us!"
"I'm sorry, Kirin," Zed said. "I had hoped our next meeting would be on better terms. I'll buy as much time as I can. Go in the sun's grace."
Kirin let out a stressful sigh, nodded, and cut the line.
"There's freakin' nukes pointed at us?" BB said. "What the fladoodle are we gonna do about that?"
Kirin thought for a moment while Apollo ordered Shiron to hasten his efforts.
"Elise isn't fighting fair," Kirin said. "She's broken the rules of life and death themselves. It's time we broke a few rules of our own."
. . . . . . . . . .
Nori had made her way to one of the medical tents pitched outside the church right next to the cemetery. A matter of convenience, perhaps; the graves were freshly vacant. In any case, she much preferred to seek her healing from modern medicine rather than divine invocation. She didn't exactly have an appointment with that Physician.
There had been a line, so she counted herself fortunate to not have been bleeding any more profusely. Some of the refugees had been shedding drops like sand in an hourglass. Not everyone within the barrier walls had found their salvation there; the harshly blowing wind had already swept away some of their ashes.
Sitting inside the white tent, waiting for someone to treat her, Nori watched the tent ceiling as it fluttered and billowed each time the wind picked up. There was something mesmerizing in the rippling motions, something like watching the waves from underneath. At last, a medic, who had just changed his bloody gloves, worked his way to her. Seeing the wound on her back, he skipped his initial diagnostic question.
"How bad is the pain?" he said.
"Bearable," Nori answered.
"Consider yourself lucky," he said. "Relatively, at least. Get the top off, and I'll sew you back up."
Without Mytyl around, Nori complied. She unzipped the top of her suit, unhooked her bra, and lay stomach-down on the stretcher while the medic sterilized his tools.
"Oh," the medic said when he turned back to his patient.
Nori knew exactly why. With her black suit peeled away, Nori had exposed the tattoo on her back. Even with the claw marks scratched through it, there was no mistaking the thick lines of the pentagram spanned between her shoulders.
"Not part of the usual Sunday morning crowd, I take it?" the medic remarked.
"No," Nori said.
Though Dr. Kamizono had always been a regular attender, Nori almost never entered the building with them. The bright lights, the choirs, and the air of hypocrisy had always given her a headache, at the least.
"Well," the medic said, "I'll need to disinfect the wound. This will sting but only for a moment, understand?"
"Just get it over with," Nori said.
The medic wasted no time plunging a disinfectant soaked cloth into her open skin. The sudden excruciating burn knocked the breath out of Nori and left her clenching the sides of the stretcher. While the medic dug the dead tissue out of the wound, he unknowingly dug a long-buried memory from the depths of Nori's subconscious.
There she was, facedown, clawing at the floor, unable to overcome the force pinning her to the center of the crackling circle.
"No!" she cried. "You can't do this to me!"
The shadows of both a man and a woman loomed over her. She could feel the static dance mockingly on her skin.
"The terms were perfectly clear," the woman said. "You made sure of that yourself."
Lightning from the circle's perimeter crashed like a plunging needle between her shoulders. Nori screamed. She could smell the flesh burning.
"I'm begging you!" she pleaded. "Anything! Anything but this!"
Nori turned to her side where the man stood. In response, he squatted down and met her desperate, quivering eyes with his own cold gaze.
"How else do you expect me to trust you?" he said.
The man rose back to his feet, and his shadow fell over Nori. Her sentence was to live in his shadow, the shadow of the man she would call, Master.
"This is what you get," the woman said, "for coming after our family."
The woman snapped her fingers, and the lightning seared Nori's back with unrelenting, burning, rage.
"Ma'am?" the medic said. "Are you ok?"
Nori looked up. How much had she let out?
"Yes," she answered. "Yes, I'm fine."
It wouldn't change anything if she weren't.
. . . . . . . . . .
Copen had finally given up on his futile escape plan. Faced with the reality of his situation, he sat against the wall with his fingers in his hair. Zeno wasn't doing any better. Wrestling with his emotions, Copen kept scratching and pulling at his hair.
"You know you're at the age where that always doesn't always grow back, right?" Zeno said.
Copen answered with a piercing glare.
"Just sayin'," Zeno added.
"I'm still counting this as your fault," Copen said.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Zeno said.
Silence settled again.
"Doesn't mean I don't deserve it," Copen said.
Zeno perked up. Copen didn't meet his eyes.
"I had a chance to walk away a long time ago," Copen said. "There was a life, a new life waiting for me if I could've just let the old one…."
"Went out on a loss," Zeno said after a moment, "didn'tcha?"
Copen was silent.
"Well," Zeno said, "that's how it is with borrowed time. Figure I can only be so upset if the rope I've been holding onto hangs me. Reaper's gotta collect."
The two of them sat in their resigned quietude a while longer. Eventually, a beep in Copen's ear pierced the veil of silence.
"Comms are back up," he said. "They must have fixed the satellites."
"Lucky you," Zeno said. "Guess you get your one call after all."
Copen hesitated for a moment. He knew there wouldn't be good news on either side of the conversation he was about to have. He decided, however, that he would rather face it than continue to sulk in dread. He called Nori.
"Nori?" Copen said. "Are you somewhere secure?"
"Secure enough," Nori said. "Go ahead."
"Is Mytyl with you?" Copen asked.
"Not at the moment," Nori answered. "I just got some medical attention. She's in better shape than I was."
"Then, she's alright?" Copen said.
"Physically," Nori answered.
Copen hesitated to ask his next question.
"Did she ask?" Copen said.
"She did," Nori answered.
"Did you tell her?" Copen said.
"Everything," Nori answered.
A wave of bitter emotion washed over Copen. Regret, he supposed.
"How did she take it?" Copen said.
"She's angry," Nori said. "At both of us."
"I shouldn't have put you in this position," Copen said.
"Mytyl has a right to her anger," Nori said. "I don't."
"Nori," Copen said, "can I still ask something of you?"
"Of course," Nori answered.
"I… I got in a little over my head," Copen said. "I don't know if you'll hear from me again. Whatever happens, promise me you'll take care of Mytyl."
"Master Copen…." Nori said. "You aren't asking anything I wouldn't already do. You have my word."
"Thank you, Nori." Copen said. "For everything."
There was silence on the line for a moment.
"I'll be listening for you," Nori said.
Copen lingered on her words. Part of him wanted to explain his situation, to guard her against hope. At the same time, he knew that he couldn't take hope away from her. Nori was realistic; she understood the situation well enough. But she cared enough to hope. It hurt Copen's heart to hold onto that sentiment, but it was a hurt he had to keep. He said nothing one way or the other until he finally dropped the call.
Eventually, Copen looked back up from the floor. Zeno had his hands locked together, and looked like he had been waiting for Copen to acknowledge him.
"I know you don't want me to ask anything," Zeno said, "but there's someone I need to talk to. They got my radio, so…."
"Why should I let you?" Copen said.
Zeno snorted in derision.
"You think you're the only one who can feel like you feel, don't you?" he said. "We're in the same boat, man. Don't deny me this."
When Copen stayed silent, Zeno hung his head and nodded to himself.
"I'm gonna give you a secure QUILL channel," Zeno said. "A creep like you wants to know what we talk about, right?"
Copen continued to look at Zeno. He considered what surveillance benefits he could reap from the connection, but whatever excitement sprouted from the opportunity quickly withered at the thought that he would most likely never be able to take advantage of it. Though Copen refused to admit so openly, Zeno's first argument had been the most convincing: why not?
"What frequency?" Copen said.
At Zeno's direction, Copen tuned his radio to the QUILL channel. He set the output to speaker and held out his gauntlet for Zeno to use the mic. Static filled the air for a moment before Zeno opened his mouth.
"Sheeps 3," he said, "this is Sheeps 2. Come in."
A clatter, as if someone had just scrambled to put their headset on, came back through the speaker.
"Zeno?" a woman's voice said. "You took time, had me starting to worry. What's your situation?"
"About that," Zeno said. "The mission took a few unexpected turns. I took out the targets, and the satellites are back, but…. Sumeragi sent a team: the Dragon Saviors. They're holding me here."
"Oh my God," the woman said. "You didn't give them this channel, did you?"
"No," Zeno said. "I found a way to sneak this one but…."
Copen saw the lump in Zeno's throat bobbing. He was fighting to hold it together.
"I think this might be it, Moniqua," he said.
For a moment, there was no audible reaction.
"I'm coming to get you," Moniqua said.
"Don't," Zeno said. "One of us has to be there for her."
"I'll gather a team," Moniqua said. "Someone has to be available to–"
"No, Moniqua," Zeno said. "I'm not worth it."
"You know you are to me," Moniqua said.
"No one else is dying for me!" Zeno said.
At just that moment, the locked door swung open, and Cayman leaned in like a headmaster who had heard too much noise from the hall.
"Hey!" he said. "No toys in time out!"
Moniqua's voice called Zeno's name one last time before Copen cut the line. Zeno looked back angrily. Cayman stepped inside to reprimand them further, but before he could open his mouth, Kirin laid her hand on his enormous bicep and stepped in behind him.
There was a look of dread on her face for what she was about to say as her eyes shifted between the two. Zeno was still thinly veiling the pain on his expression while Copen set his own face like flint. He may confess to his family or to God that he had done wrong, but Sumeragi, he would defy to the end. Kirin sighed and met his stony eyes with resolve in her own.
"We need your help," she said.
. . . . . . . . . .
The whole group assembled in the control room. The blue light of the holographic globe painted their shadowed faces as it projected the violet septima wave washing over the mainland.
"The situation is desperate," Kirin said. "Our only option is to take out Elise and do it now. For that, we need an extra team: one that answers to no one but us."
"So, what, you're drafting us or something?" Zeno said.
"Unless you two are even more delusional than expected," Apollo said, "you should be well aware that your free lives are over. However, we find it prudent to offer you your lives and, perhaps, a measure of freedom in exchange for your services."
"These are the conditions:" Kirin said, "you share any information you have with us, you help us bring down Elise and her allies, and you follow our orders to the letter. Then, and only then, we'll uphold our side of the deal. What do you say?"
Copen and Zeno both weighed the situation in silence.
"Look," Zeno said, "I never wanted to make enemies with anyone. Believe what you want, but you guys aren't my fight anymore. If you're giving me the chance to make peace, I'll take it."
Kirin nodded to him. BB rolled his chair over to Zeno and offered a fist bump.
"Wouldn't be the first time we had one of you ex-QUILL cats, er dogs, I guess, on the team," BB said.
Zeno reluctantly returned the fist bump. Kirin shifted her gaze to Copen who still wasn't making eye contact with anyone.
"And you?" she said.
While everyone's eyes landed on Copen, he slowly raised his own and began to leer at them one by one as he spoke.
"Let me explain something," he said. "This isn't the first time that monster, Elise, has reared her ugly heads. Thirty years ago, Nova endangered everyone by letting her out, and do you know had to stop her? It wasn't Sumeragi, it wasn't QUILL, and it wasn't Gunvolt. It was me, and I'm the only one I trust to do it again. If you want to help, fine, but I'm doing this my way."
"Bold answer," Cayman said. "You must not realize that if you don't do what we say, you might not even live long enough to hear your sentence, never mind serve it."
"None of us will," Copen said. "Which doesn't put you in much position to negotiate either."
Copen stood up. So did Kirin. They glared defiantly at each other.
"Whatever got us here," Copen said, "you came asking for my help because you need me. I know it. You know it. And you can count yourself lucky that you found me on only the day I'd even consider it. You want my help? It happens on my terms."
Kirin stared Copen down while everyone clung to their seats. The tension was palpable.
"Alright," Kirin said. "For argument's sake, let's say I am willing to put up with your crap. What are your terms?"
"For starters," Copen said, "I need to repair my gear and rearm. This place doesn't have the equipment I'll need. So, condition one: give me back what's mine and let me take it to one of my own facilities. No escort, no tail, no tracker. Agree to that, and we'll establish a comms link. Condition two: no one comes after me. Unless I ask, stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours."
"That's ridiculous," Apollo said. "You can't possibly expect us to leave you completely at your own liberty in exchange for nothing but an IOU and a number we can't guarantee you'll answer."
"On those conditions only," Copen said, "I'll share any relevant intel and lay your target's severed heads at your feet."
"And what if we don't need you as much as you think?" Kirin said.
"There's only one person in the world who's proven he can do what you need done today," Copen said. "I'm everyone's best shot. The only question is if you're going to let me take it."
Kirin didn't blink. Neither did Copen. By the dim light's angle, she just could discern the paneled spot under Copen's eye that reflected differently than his actual skin. His face was hard as steel. Kirin was looking at a man who truly believed he was the world's only hope. She sighed and looked over her shoulder.
"Shiron," she said, "remind me which frequency we were using to call out high value targets."
Shiron, catching her meaning, called out the code. Kirin turned back to Copen with an unflinching scowl. For the first time, Copen's eyes shifted slightly as if caught off guard. Perhaps his mother had once given him the same look.
"We agree to your terms," Kirin said. "Your turn."
Slowly, Copen nodded. He gave them the channel which Shiron immediately tested.
"Link's good," Shiron said, "but is that really it?"
"You're letting him go awfully easy," Apollo added.
"The fact is," Kirin said, "I don't have time to waste arguing with some bull-headed bastard, never mind babysitting him. Besides, he won't be able to help himself; this one's personal for him, too."
The look on Copen's face fell short of denying her assertion.
"You can take your junk and go," Kirin said.
"That 'junk' is worth more than your whole team," Copen said.
"Is that so?" Kirin said. "Cayman, show him the door."
Cayman took Copen by the arm.
"If I decide I'm ready to put up with any more lip from you," Kirin said, "I'll call. Now get out of my sight."
Though he held his glare for a moment longer, Copen turned and left without another word.
"Well, heck, if he doesn't have to stay," Zeno said.
"Not so fast," Apollo said. "Your deal is already set; it's non-negotiable now."
Zeno deflated.
"Fair enough, I guess," he said.
"You'll get used to it," BB said.
"There's one thing I gotta ask, though," Zeno said. "Was GV really tight with you guys?"
"Hell yeah, he was!" Shiron said.
"We were like this," BB added, fingers crossed.
"So," Zeno said, "what happened to him?"
Everyone in the room went silent. One by one, they looked to Kirin for an answer.
"I wish I knew," she said.
Grave of face, Zeno nodded slowly.
"Me, too," he said.