Resistance (20 page)

“Have I ever shared any of my plans with you before?”

She’d smiled, then, and he’d covered the distance between them in a second, and crushed her against him with enough force to set her struggling in a minute or so. But it had been a very good minute.

“Don’t go now,” she’d said then, and he’d groaned. “This isn’t the time. They’re looking for you now – you picked the two worst supers in the world to be hunted by. If Jai doesn’t find you, Aman will. We’ll lie low for a few weeks. And then we’ll go together. You can’t just rush off like this, alone.”

“It’s the only way,” he’d said. “It has to be now, Azusa. Because they will find me. And my sources at Utopic tell me they’re going to be very busy over the next few days.”

But Azusa was as stubborn as he was. She’d always been. She’d refused to go, and when he’d refused to stay, she’d given him the co-ordinates of the twenty-seven Tias that had sprung from Tia Prime after they’d met in her submarine. They were all in Gurgaon, in what the internet told him was formerly the biggest mall in the world. She’d warned him that that didn’t mean that Kalki was anywhere in the vicinity. But even this had been a treasure-trove compared to what he’d known before, and he’d left right then, practically run off, ignoring her arguments, trying and failing to explain to her that there just wasn’t enough time, that he didn’t really want her to go anyway, as he didn’t want to put her life in danger ever again. He’d promised Azusa he’d return and be with her, and sworn that he’d fix the world and then it would be theirs.

She’d been crying when he left. He’d told himself they were tears of joy, and had decided it was best not to check.

* * *

When Norio wakes up again, it is to the now familiar sensation of a rifle barrel prodding him in the stomach. But when he opens his eyes, he doesn’t see a gangster from the stylish mob he’s privately named the Fashion Police. Instead, it’s a young man in khaki fatigues. His face and arms are covered in tattoos that look like tiger stripes.

“Hello hello,” says the man.

Norio looks around. He’s lying in the back of a large truck, speeding down the highway. Empty fields on either side, what looks like a factory to the east. In the distance, he can see skyscrapers, twinkling and shimmering as they catch the sunset.

“What’s your name?” asks Norio.

“Jai.”

“That’s nice. I have a close friend named Jai. You’re in Sher’s army,” says Norio.

“Yes, Sher’s army,” says Jai. “You are Japanese.” Perhaps to congratulate Norio on his nationality, he hands him a bottle of water.

“This is true,” says Norio. He takes a deep swig, tries to summon the energy for an inspiring speech, considers how well his last few inspiring speeches have gone, and gives up.

“I have come to see Kalki,” he says. “Do you know where he is?”

“Yes.”

“Please take me to him,” says Norio. “It’s incredibly important. I need to save the world.”

“You are not surprised to be here in my truck?” asks Jai.

“You saved me from that other gang,” says Norio. “You found me just as they were going to kill me. Maybe I’m just lucky. Maybe it’s destiny. Maybe you saved me for a reason. Because Kalki wanted to see me.”

“We have actually been following you since the bar,” says Jai. “We were betting to see how far you’d get. I lost my money.”

“Please tell me you’ll take me to see Kalki,” says Norio. “I’ve come a long way.”

“Can’t meet Kalki direct. First see Sher,” says Jai. “Only if Sher say you okay, you safe, you see Kalki.”

Norio sits up. “Do you like money? Really large amounts of money?” he asks.

“Yes,” says Jai. “Sher also likes.”

“That’s good then,” says Norio. “But I’d like to give you something extra.”

“Extra money? What you want me to do?”

“Just get me to Sher secretly. Don’t tell Tia I’m here.”

Jai grins. “All right. Secret. I won’t tell to Tia.”

Norio breathes in and out deeply and shuts his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Too bad I already know,” says a voice behind him.

Norio looks around. Two Tias, bodies covered with tiger-stripe tattoos, climb out of the truck’s cab through the broken rear window.

“I owe you three bullets in the chest,” says one.

Jai tosses her his rifle with a grin.

“I’ll apologise profusely later,” says Norio. “But this is beyond you and me. This is about—”

“Shut up,” says Tia. “You’re not seeing Kalki. Or anyone else. And Aman says hi.”

She points the rifle at him, and grins.

“You’re done,” she says.

“Are you sure about this?” asks Aman. Wherever he is, the network is weak, his voice sounds hollow and far away in Uzma’s earpiece, as if he’s going through a tunnel.

Uzma adjusts her earpiece nervously. “Can you hear me?” she asks.

“Yes. You don’t have to shout. Vir?”

“Clear,” says Vir. “Where are you? I can hear traffic.”

“Never mind that. Uzma? Have you heard from the kids? Are they in India yet?”

“No. On their way.”

“You do realise Tia’s perfectly capable of holding Norio for a week on her own, don’t you?” says Aman.

“Yes.”

“And that I think sending Jason and Anima to India is a bad idea?”

“Well, if you wanted a vote, you should have joined the Unit.”

Uzma climbs the steps to the Unit headquarters and takes a look around. It’s a clear day, the sky is cloudless, and the Upper Bay is a brighter shade of blue than she’s ever seen in New York. Vir stands beside her, hair blowing about in the steady breeze. He hasn’t been to this Unit building before, but just the approach seems to be stirring up bad memories.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks again.

“No,” says Aman. “But get on with it.”

* * *

A few minutes later, in a third-floor armoury, amidst lines of shelves stacked with expensive and deadly super-weapons, Vir stands facing the suit of armour recently vacated by Jai. It stares back at him impassively, black and silver and radiating menace.

“Go ahead,” says Uzma. “Put it on.”

Vir does, picking up one plate at a time and slowly attaching it to his body. Fortunately, the armour doesn’t smell of Jai – the Unit’s housekeeping has always been excellent, as superhero housekeeping needs to be. Vir puts on the helmet last, his face troubled, and then floats upwards slowly, extending his arms.

“It’s heavy,” he says. “Isn’t it supposed to change to fit to my size?”

“It did for me,” says Aman. “I think you have to be online for it to read your thoughts.”

“Well, at least he can still fly,” says Uzma.

“Then fly to your meeting,” says Aman. “You’re late.”

* * *

The moment Uzma enters the central chamber on the top floor, she senses something is amiss. Wingman and Wu sit in their usual places, faces carefully blank; That Guy smiles at her nervously from behind a celebrity holo-mag. But Uzma doesn’t even notice them, her attention is fixed on the other occupant of the chamber, who’s sitting in her chair. A tall, thin, handsome man in his forties, dressed in an immaculate suit, reading a document on a tablet. He doesn’t rise or acknowledge her presence as she storms towards him, and it’s only when she stands in front of him and clears her throat loudly that he even looks at her. She seethes as his eyes move past her, and settle on Vir.

“I’m afraid access to that armour goes through me now,” he says. “It will have to be returned.”

“Where is Ellis, and who the hell are you?” demands Uzma.

The man smiles. “You can call me Agent N,” he says. “Think of me as the new Ellis.”

“Agent N? Seriously? Never heard of him,” whispers Aman. “Give me a second.”

N hands Uzma his tablet, she tosses it onto the table and subjects him to a withering glare.

“You should have asked Ellis how things work here,” she snaps. “Get out of my chair. I’ll deal with you after our meeting.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how this is going to play out,” says N. “I could explain, but it’s probably simpler that you read it for yourself.” He gestures towards the tablet.

“Don’t bother, I got it” says Aman in her ear. “Independent strategic consultant. New team manager, agent, the works. You hate him, don’t you? It feels like you hate him.”

“Let’s get started, shall we? Where are Jason and Anima?” asks N.

“Get. Out,” Says Uzma. N smiles at her, and stays in her seat. Uzma notices the transparent bands of AR plastic that cover his eyes and ears.

“He’s covered,” says Aman. “You could still beat him up, I suspect.”

“Jason and Anima. They were supposed to be here,” says N. “They’re not. Why?”

Uzma takes a deep breath.

“All right,” she says. “You have my attention. Why are you here?”

N looks at her and smiles. “The inauguration is in three days. There were performance reviews across the board. Ellis was found wanting.”

“He did nothing wrong!” yells Uzma.

“This is true,” says N. “He is an unfortunate scapegoat, Uzma. The real fault lies with you.”

He stands and looks around the table at the assembled members of the Unit. Uzma turns too, outraged, and notices Wingman smiling.

“The Unit is now under new management,” says Agent N. “You have been damaging the reputation of the United Nations and using the world’s greatest superhero team for personal errands. I’ve been sent here to ensure this changes.”

Uzma sits in another chair, too furious to speak.

“You need to watch your tone, Agent,” says Vir.

“And you need to leave this room,” says N, unperturbed. “You are always welcome in the building, as a respected former member of the Unit. But you are not a member of this team until your application is approved. I’ll send you the form.”

Uzma turns to Wingman and Wu. “You people are all right with this?”

Wingman shrugs. “The Japan debacle was your fault, Uzma,” he says. “There were bound to be consequences.”

Uzma nods.

“Vir,” says Aman, “I think you should leave. And I think you should take Uzma with you.”

Vir stays where he is.

“I’m afraid removing me is not that easy,” he says.

N nods. “That’s your decision,” he says. “Though it’s one you might have cause to regret.”

He waves his hands, and a holo-screen appears over the centre of the table. Another wave, and the screen morphs into a hologram of the globe.

“Nuclear reactor meltdown in Chechnya four days ago,” says N, and a glowing red cylinder grows out of the map. “Floods in Bangladesh. Earthquake in Iran. Insect hive in Prague. Forest fire in Brazil. Super-induced tsunami in Chile. Super-combustion in the Arctic Circle. Crocodile-man infestation in Kinshasa. Oil spill in the Gulf. And the punch line, the Black Plague. In western China, Uighur country.”

The Unit watches the holo-globe spin in front of them, red spikes sticking out in every direction. N raises his arms, and the globe stops spinning.

“Three million casualties in one month,” says N. “Did you even notice?”

He glares around the room, and the Unit glares back.

“Uzma?” asks N. “Do you have any excuses?”

“I don’t owe you any explanations,” says Uzma. “If we’d known any of these were going to happen, we would have stopped them.”

N shakes his head. “Pathetic,” he says. “The United Nations has let you live like kings. And what have you given the world in return? Three million corpses.”

“All right, that’s enough,” says Wingman. “Trying to pin the blame on us just makes you look bad, N. Tell us what you want.”

“It’s not a question of what I want,” says N. “It’s about what is right for the UN. For the world.”

“I’ve tracked your N,” says Aman in Uzma’s ear. “Long trail of companies, but bottom line, he’s Utopic. Get him out.”

“My team has gone through all available Unit records, and we’ve come to several conclusions,” says N. “I suggest you all listen closely.”

“We reject your conclusions, and we reject you,” says Uzma. She turns to her team. “Tell him.”

Wingman stays silent.

“I support Uzma,” says Wu.

“And so do Jason and Anima,” says Vir. “I do too, of course. You should leave, N. I’d advise you to remember what room you’re in.”

“But Jason and Anima aren’t here,” says N.

“This guy’s tried to hide his tracks. His funding chain is all over the place,” says Aman. “But if you don’t fix this, Utopic will take over the Unit.”

“Uzma,” says N. “Time and again over the last decade, you’ve put the reputation of the Unit in danger. You’ve gone against your briefings on several assignments and single-handedly created diplomatic disasters.”

“By stopping wars,” says Uzma. “I suppose your masters at Utopic lost some money there.”

N ignores her. “You’ve shown on several occasions that fame and celebrity rankings mean more to you than your duties. You’ve also made several decisions that have called into question your abilities as a leader. Our team of experts has deduced that you have kept this position all these years as a result of your unique abilities, your glamour and your popularity.”

“Actually, I kind of like him,” says Aman. “He’s sweet.”

“Your decision to keep Jai Mathur in the Unit, instead of allowing him to be tried for his crimes, has on several occasions proved to be unwise,” says N.

“I see,” says Uzma.

“Now that you have allowed him to escape, on a mission you undertook against your UN liaison’s direct warnings, you have created a situation that might bring the whole UN into disrepute. I’m sorry to have to say this, Uzma Abidi, but you are no longer fit to lead the Unit.”

Uzma nods. “And who is, may I ask?”

“Wingman will lead the team. Wu will remain a core member, as per the agreement with China. That Guy is fired, and his presence at this table is no longer permissible. We’ve decided to let Jason and Anima focus on their entertainment careers. And Uzma, we’ve decided that since the Faceless is no longer around to ensure your safety, your role will be changed from here on. We’re going to use you for covert diplomatic missions. Out in the open, you’re too much of a target.”

“So it’s concern for my safety now?” asks Uzma. “I thought it was because I couldn’t get the job done. Hysterical, emotional and all that.”