Shades of Gray (22 page)

“I promise you, Joannie Greene, I’m coming back. I love you.”

She throws her arms around him and he bends down to kiss her. Their lips meet, and Jet allows herself to believe Samson’s promise. And for that little piece of forever, everything is perfect.

The kiss lasts a long, long time
.

Jet’s eyelids fluttered as she swam up to consciousness. Three things hit her immediately: one, she was wearing only her bra and panties. Two, she had no idea where she was. And three, if she didn’t get to a bathroom right now, she was going to burst.

She sat up, blinking as she looked around. After a moment, it clicked: She was in one of the headquarters’ back rooms they’d been using as sleeping quarters. Pennants and jerseys littered the walls, brushed with the dust of glories past. Okay, that meant the bathroom was down the hall, headed toward the main barroom. Progress.

Grabbing the blanket that had covered her, she pushed off the cot and tested the strength of her legs. She was a little dizzy, but that could be from low blood sugar. She wrapped the starchy blanket around her, making an impromptu toga, and padded out of the small room. In the hallway, she got her bearings and soon found the women’s room and did her business.

She eyed the shower longingly, but instead she headed out to the main room, modesty be damned.

A glance showed her Meteorite hovering by the main console, absently polishing the bar top with a rag as she watched a multiscreen vid of what looked like rioting and newsies commenting and police holding back protesters and—

“Light,” Jet breathed, “is that City Hall on fire?”

Meteorite squawked as she jumped, her rag balled in her fist. Blushing furiously, she let out a shaky breath. “Christo, don’t sneak up on a person like that! How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Jet answered. It was true: She was feeling clearheaded and, unbelievably, well rested. “Hungry.”

Meteorite chuckled. “I bet.”

“What’s happening at City Hall?”

“More protesters. Some got creative. Firebug’s already on her way to help the city’s Bravest and to try to do some PR damage control.”

“Good.” Jet stared at the screens for a moment, thinking about how the mayor would take his office getting crisped. Probably about as well as Everyman had taken it when their HQ had been bombed. At least this time, Kai was doing her duty.

… save the world …

Something nagged at Jet, something about … Everyman? No, that wasn’t quite right. But she had more important things to think about. Gripping her blanket tightly, she said, “How’d I get here? Where are the others? Are they all right?” A pause. “And why am I naked?”

That last bothered Jet immensely. She remembered the sound of Bruce’s laughter, the feeling of his hands on her body. She gritted her teeth. Her hormones were going to be the death of her.

“Slow down,” Meteorite said, holding up her hands in surrender. “The others are out, doing what they can. You’re naked because I had to get your outfit off you before I could see the extent of your injuries.”

Injuries? She’d been hurt?

Before Jet could ask about that, Meteorite said, “What do you remember?”

Jet frowned, thinking. “I’d gone after Firebug and Steele, then I confronted Hypnotic …” She blanked. She had the impression of talking to him, of his touching her face, his eyes shining in wonder. “He told me his name is Hal.”

“Harold Gibbons, code name Doctor Hypnotic. What happened when you were in there?”

“I’m not sure. We talked, I know that much. But …” Her frown deepened. Part of her was insisting that Hypnotic had helped her with … something … but it was like chasing smoke. “I can’t remember.”

“That’s not a surprise,” Meteorite said slowly. “All things considered, you and the others got off lucky.”

Jet’s eyes widened. “The others. Steele, Firebug. And Taser, I’d called him in for assistance. Are they all right?”

“Kai’s a little worse for the wear, but getting back into the thick of things has done wonders for her. And you know Harriet,” Meteorite said with a chuckle. “Steele’s unbendable.”

“And Bruce?” Jet asked softly.

“
Taser,
Iridium, and Boxer got you and the others out. They brought you here, and I’ve been checking on you while you recuperated.”

Iridium had shown up after all—and with backup? Jet’s mind whirled as she tore at her memories, trying to remember what had happened when she’d gone into Hypnotic’s lair. “I was hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Hypnotic?”

“Actually, Bruce.” Meteorite smirked, then shrugged as if to say What Did You Expect? “He’d been aiming for Hypnotic, but got you instead.”

Her jaw dropped. “
Bruce
zapped me?”

“Yeah. But you weren’t burned, which was good, and your eyes were clear, which was even better. If you were under Hypnotic’s influence, they’d have been milky white.” Meteorite motioned to one of her assorted computers. “I’ve been reading up on Hypnotic. And based on everything I’ve been reading, we’re in a hoverload of trouble.”

“Okay.” Bruce had almost electrocuted her. Light. Clutching her blanket, Jet said, “Download everything you’ve found about Hypnotic to my wristlet and tell me where I’m needed.” She spun on her heel to head back to the so-called guest room. “And where’s my skinsuit?”

“Where you’re needed is the shower.”

Jet paused, then looked over her shoulder at Meteorite. “Excuse me?”

“Joan,” the other woman said gently. “You’d been fighting for two days without a break, then you were down for the count for two more days. Not to put too fine a point on it, you reek. And a shower will get you more focused for what you need to do.”

“I was unconscious for
two days
?” Jet thought she sounded fairly calm, all things considered.

“Yeah.” Meteorite sighed. “Courtesy of Iridium. She doped you so you’d finally get some sleep.”

“Iridium
drugged me
?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t so calm. Maybe she’d actually shouted that last part.

“Get over it, babe. Go on and shower.”

“I don’t have time to shower,” Jet growled. She was going to kill Bruce and Callie. Slowly. And very painfully. “From what I see, everything’s hit the roof.”

“Joan Greene, you turn your ass around and look at me.”

Clenching her teeth, Jet turned.

Meteorite had crossed her arms beneath her ample bosom, and there were thunderstorms in her eyes. “Yes, the shit has hit the fan, even with the overall violence lessening. Hypnotic’s influence is spreading in a growing radius around his lair in Looptown.” Jet must have looked puzzled, because Meteorite explained, “People, both norms and extrahumans, are just staring off into space. Falling under his spell, just like when he first went rabid.”

Jet recalled studying the Siege of Manhattan during Fourth Year tactics training at the Academy. About twenty years ago, Hypnotic had parted ways with the Squadron—violently—and had controlled a small area in New York City. It had taken the Squadron five days to push through his henchmen, then confront Doctor Hypnotic directly. The casualty rate had been horrific. “We can’t let that happen again,” Jet said quietly.

“But it’s already started. The hospitals are overloaded with cases of what the media’s calling ‘zombie plague.’ Total number’s hard to come by, but 212 cases have been confirmed.”

Oh Light.

Duty first,
Jet thought bleakly. All those people, lost in their own minds … waiting for Hypnotic to command them. She had to stop Hal, convince him that what he was doing was wrong.

“So far, none of the affected civilians, or extrahumans,” Meteorite emphasized, “have done anything other than go blank.”

Jet frowned. “He got some of the rabids?”

“From what I’ve been picking up, yeah. Thirteen of the zombies were ID’d as extrahuman.” Meteorite listed them all, ending with a name Jet knew all too well from her Academy years: Dawnlighter. “Maybe we should recruit him,” Meteorite said with a tight laugh. “He’s doing some of our work for us.”

“You can help make a difference,” she says to Hal.

“Why, Joan,” he replies, “what a marvelous idea. I’ll have to think about that.”

Jet cursed.

“And that wacky media has also just announced to everyone and their sister that rumor has it that Hypnotic has broken out of Blackbird, so now people are more scared than they were before.” Meteorite snorted. “Which is saying something.”

“This is all the more reason I have to go after him now, before his influence spreads.”

“Will you shut it? I’m not done.” Meteorite glared at her. “The brass hasn’t pinpointed Hypnotic’s lair yet. Derek and I are guessing Hypnotic’s cloaked it somehow. If not for Kai’s distress call two days ago, we wouldn’t have found him, either.” Meteorite frowned. “Just as well. The National Guard would probably bomb him to hell and back rather than go against him directly.”

“Not with all the innocents caught in the crossfire, they wouldn’t.”

“Of course they would. Acceptable losses, and all that.”

“So I
have
to go after him,” Jet said impatiently. “We can’t give this to the police. It’s too dangerous for them.”

Meteorite shouted, “Scorch it, don’t you see? He’s
too fucking strong.
”

Her words hung in the air between them.

Jet knew that Meteorite was right. Hal was much too strong. But what other option was there?

“Hypnotic’s just the frosting on the shit cake.” Meteorite ticked off points on her fingers as she said, “We still have groups of former Squadron soldiers venting throughout New Chicago, not to mention the rest of the Americas. There are more citizen protests like what’s happening at City Hall, and even more zealous speeches from Everyman. Citywide curfew is in effect. Just to make it more fun, there are rumors of a mass breakout from Blackbird.”

Jet felt dizzy. “Please tell me that really is just a rumor.”

“We don’t know,” Meteorite said with a heavy sigh. “We can’t get a solid answer from Blackbird thanks to the guards striking, let alone the police. And from the little I’ve picked up, Lee is poised to label all extrahumans terrorists, so we’re not getting a lot of love from any of the brass.”

Terrorists. Light.

“To top it off, we still don’t have a beat on the missing Academy students or staff.”

A lump formed in Jet’s throat, and she swallowed thickly. The students had to be safe somewhere. Ops at the Academy might have been washed-up heroes, but most of them had still held on to their extrahuman abilities. What was more, they hadn’t worn the earpieces that had brainwashed the Squadron into being Corp yes men. They had to have led the kids to safety.

“At least it’s not all doom and gloom,” Meteorite said lightly. “Your best buddy’s been working with us on and off these past two days. She’s been a big help. So’s Taser.”

Bruce and Callie, hand in hand. How fitting. “Iri’s really one of the good guys?”

“For now. You know Iridium. With her, it’s always about her own interests first.”

“Indeed.” She remembered Iri telling her to drop her off in Wreck City, instead of going with her to confront Hypnotic. “Taser as well.”

Meteorite shook her head ruefully. “Don’t be too hard on him just because he fried your circuits by accident. We’re sort of screwed here, Jetster. Don’t go looking gift horses in the mouth.”

“I don’t plan on doing anything with Taser’s mouth,” Jet replied, her voice clipped. Her stomach ruined her indignation as it let out a woeful grumble.

“I’m sure Taser’s mouth is very disappointed. I’ll scare up some food for you. While you shower,” Meteorite added pointedly.

Jet glared at her. “Sheila …”

“Don’t you ‘Sheila’ me, Joan Greene. Get your ass into that shower.” Meteorite smiled sweetly. “And then I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden your skinsuit. Which, by the way, is now clean. Unlike you.”

Jet stared at the Ops controller long and hard. Finally, she said, “You’re incorrigible.”

“And allergic to dirt. Go get clean.” The smile melted off Meteorite’s face. “Because Jehovah knows, you’ll be getting dirty again.”

CHAPTER 28

IRIDIUM

These parents have no conception of what their children could become. This isn’t merely science … this is evolution.

—Matthew Icarus, undated research notes

W
hy, Iridium wondered, did packs of villains always travel in threes? A love of prime numbers? Or simply to annoy her? Iridium bet on the latter.

These three—Feedback, Blackwasp, and Duster—had to be the sorriest bunch of superpowered punks New Chicago had ever seen. All young, all barely out of the Academy, with probably three months of field training among them and a love of clashing colors on their skinsuits.

Still, they’d managed to take out an armored transport hover and tie up traffic for kilometers in both directions.

Iridium threw herself behind one of the hover’s tilithium doors as Feedback’s sonic scream ricocheted off the buildings all around. Glass rained down, and Feedback raised his hands like he was conducting opera.

Until ten thousand volts to the back of his neck laid him out flat. Taser shook his head, batting at his ears. “Damn it, that stings.”

“Your left!” Iridium said sharply, as a dirt crawler controlled by Duster reared out of the pavement. Taser dove left, and the crawler took out the front window of a 3-D rental shop.

That left just Blackwasp unaccounted for. Iridium spun in time to duck a slash from the toxic stingers in his forearms.

“There you are, kiddo,” she said. “My memory might be going, but haven’t I kicked your ass once before?”

“That was then,” Blackwasp panted. “This is now.”

“Oh, well.” Iridium called a strobe. “Two for two is better than one.” She threw the strobe into Blackwasp’s buggy face, and it left sunburn across his nose and cheeks.

He didn’t flinch, even when his bug-eyed goggles steamed from the heat.

“Polarized glass.” He giggled. “Old school. I’m smarter this time.”