Shades of Gray (44 page)

“Callie?” Lester raised his eyebrow, his expression telling her exactly what her answer would be.

“I’m staying,” she said.

“To play the hero,” Lester scoffed.

Iridium gritted her teeth. “If you wanted a supervillain daughter, you shouldn’t have taught me so well, Dad. You showed me how to be a hero. Nobody else to blame.”

Lester sighed, then turned to Protean. “What about you, big man?”

Protean stepped closer to Iridium. “I’m staying too. I like it here.”

A smile quirked Lester’s face. “So be it. I’ll watch for you in the vids.” He turned with a swirl of his black cape and started to leave.

“Dad!” Callie cried. She might never see him again, and he was just leaving? Lester turned back, and Callie pulled up short. “I just wanted to say … um. Have a safe trip.”

She let out a surprised squeak when Lester swept her into a tight embrace. “I’m proud of you, Calista my girl,” he whispered. “Don’t forget it. You
be
the hero I never was.”

Iridium blinked away the sting in her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Lester pulled away, and almost as an afterthought, took off his cape and handed it to Callie. “Take care of it, daughter.”

Arclight walked out of the warehouse, head high and back straight as always, and Iridium stayed where she was, feeling fledgling and fragile as she had on her first patrol.

Protean nudged her. “What say you put that thing on and we go fight some crime for the greater good?”

Iridium slung the cape around her shoulders. It settled, not heavy. Just … present.

She flashed Protean a grin. “Yeah. Let’s go kick some ass.”

CHAPTER 58

JET

First day at the job. I’d never admit this to Aaron, but I’m eager for this opportunity. Working for the Squadron is exciting—and we have the chance to help them help the world.

—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #2

W
hen Jet arrived at the old Wrigley Field headquarters, she hadn’t expected to see Taser there, chatting up a group of female Runners. The man was worse than Lady Killer. But at least he didn’t wear nearly as much cologne.

“Ah, just the woman I was looking for.” Taser walked over to her, arms wide, his mouth clearly grinning even behind the ski mask. Hooking one arm over Jet’s shoulder, he said, “We should have a little talk.”

Jet stiffened. Part of her wanted to knee him in the balls. The rest of her wanted to hug him. Light, she was hopeless. Jet ducked out from Taser and stood in front of him, hands on her hips as she glared at him. “I can’t think of what I’d possibly want to talk about with you.”

“A business proposition,” he said.

Jet frowned at him. “Does it include kidnapping me and delivering me to a psychotic former hero? If so, pass.”

As she turned to walk away, Taser said, “I promise you, Jet, this is something you’re going to want to hear.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “Come on.”

On the way to her quarters, a Runner tried to get her attention, but Jet was in a foul place and chose to ignore the woman instead of possibly bite her head off. Or worse; the Shadow had grown … unpredictable.

Once Jet and Taser were alone, she sat at the edge of her cot, arms tucked around her knees. “Well?” she said. “What’s this business proposition?”

Taser leaned against the wall, his arms casually crossed over his chest. “I think we have us an unprecedented situation. Corp’s going to want to take credit for Hypnotic’s capture, and I’m sure they’ll manipulate things so they’ll have been behind you guys reining in the poor, sweet sewer mutants.”

“Your point?”

“They can’t brainwash you and the others anymore. That cat’s out of the bag. You have that over their heads. You’re in a position to make demands, and they’ll have to listen.”

Jet couldn’t say anything about it. But Light knew, Iri could. And Frostbite. And Hornblower, still in the hospital, his leg gone. Oh yes, Jet thought, her eyes glittering, they certainly could say things. Horrible things.

True things.

“I’ve been talking to the Runners,” Taser said. “Getting them pumped up. They liked getting out there, tranqing the mutants, getting into the thick of it. They want to do more than be your Stepin Fetchits, Jet. They want to actively help the Squadron, not just run their errands and pick up their dry cleaning.”

Her own words, from just a week ago:
Maybe it’s time for us to reach out to the citizens of New Chicago, work with them now more than ever before. Build goodwill.

Yes, Jet thought, a smile playing on her face as she remembered Wagner’s offer.
Yes.
The Runners could be their civilian counterparts, working actively with the police and Lee’s office. Branching out from New Chicago to expand the network throughout the Americas.

“What about …” Damn it to Darkness, she still couldn’t say
Corp.
It made her want to scream.

Taser understood. “What about them? They can’t tell you no, not anymore. Don’t you see, Jet? For the first time, you and the Squadron are in control.”

She frowned up at him. “You said this was a business proposition. What’s your role in this?”

“Me? I’ll be your friendly local mercenary, ready to do the dirty deeds you good-guy heroes aren’t allowed to do. Consider me the ultimate negotiator.”

“For a price,” she said, “of course.”

He shrugged. “Of course. A boy’s got to eat.”

“I’ll talk to the others.” She stretched, then began to massage her left shoulder—her weak spot, ever since she’d first dislocated it Fourth Year.

When she felt his hands on her shoulders, she stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“I’m still trained in massage,” he murmured. “Among other things.”

She slid out from his hands and pivoted to face him. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He cocked his head, looking her up and down, his hidden gaze lingering on her chest. “You still want me, Joan. Don’t try to deny it.”

She swallowed thickly. “I don’t deny it.”

“So?” He leaned forward, reaching out to her, stroking her cheek. “What’s the problem?”

She wanted to lean into his touch. Instead she shrugged away. “The problem, Bruce, is the last time I trusted you like this, you betrayed me the next day.”

“That was just a job.”

Hugging herself, she got off her cot, showing him her back. “Yes, it was. I get that. But that was also the last time you’ll ever get me.”

He chuckled softly. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t you have to go find Iridium and hit on her? Or maybe one of the dozens of female Runners you keep tucked around you?”

“Thanks for the permission.” A pause, and then, “Be seeing you, Joan.”

She stayed with her arms wrapped around herself for a long time after he left. And then, finally, she went to shower.

CHAPTER 59

IRIDIUM

The horror is, I can pinpoint exactly how it came to this. How I changed the world. I wanted to save my daughter. I doomed the world instead. I doomed it to Corp, and to their Squadron of thugs. I opened a floodgate, and the tide has drowned me.

—Matthew Icarus, diary entry dated 2020

B
y the time old Wrigley Field hove into view, Iridium was feeling decidedly less chipper.

The day she’d avoided at age seven, when Night had merely captured her father instead of killing him, was happening now. She was, for all intents and purposes, an orphan.

Would the Squadron even want her, now that they weren’t up to their asses in sewer mutants?

Would anyone even care that Iridium, no longer a villain, was still breathing?

“Everyone,” she said when she stepped into the ready room. “This is Protean. Protean, that’s Firebug and Meteorite. You know Taser.”

“Hey, man,” Taser said, shaking his hand. “Glad you decided to stick around.”

Protean nodded, smiling mutely.

“I’m Kai,” Firebug said, extending her hand. “Welcome aboard.” She left it at that, and quickly pretended to be busy at a console.
She should be uncomfortable,
Iridium thought. Hypnotic wasn’t the only boogeyman out there. Kai might not last if she was that easily rattled.

“It’s good to have you,” Meteorite said, and Iridium was shocked to see an actual smile creep across the former Weather power’s face. It looked like it hurt her a little. “We can always use another hand.”

“And I can see I’m in fine hands, myself,” Protean said, bowing over Meteorite’s grasp. The Ops controller turned pink.

Iridium rolled her eyes.
Ah, young love.
“Where’s Joan?” she asked Meteorite, before she got lost in Protean’s eyes.

“In the briefing room,” Meteorite said, “going over the sifted data. Trying to sniff out information on Moore. Doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Iridium said, and went down the curve of the corridor and ducked into the small room that housed mounds of data printouts. Jet, her back to Iridium, was hunched over the desk, scanning what looked to be a kilometer’s worth of reports. “Hey,” Iridium called out. “Meteorite said you were hiding out in here.”

Jet turned, and Iridium was momentarily at a loss. She couldn’t remember a time she’d
ever
seen Jet in civvies—even at the Academy, Joan had always been in one uniform or another. Not to mention with her hair down in loose waves, and a smile on her face. And no optiframes.

It was official. The world had, indeed, been turned inside out.

“Iri!” Jet’s face fell as she stared at Iridium. “Callie, you look terrible. Did something happen?”

“My … my dad left,” Iridium blurted.

“Left?”

“Took off. Gone. Vamoosed. Protean stayed behind, with me. I came by to drop him off with you heroes.” She made a move to step back. The corridor suddenly seemed very close.

“Wait.” Jet pressed a button on a pager, and when a man’s voice answered, she said, “Lowell, Iridium needs a change of clothes, please. Do you mind?”

“Sure thing,” came the reply. “Seven all right?”

Numbly, Iridium nodded.

“Perfect,” Jet said. “Thanks.” She took in Iridium’s disheveled appearance and added, “Oh, could you also bring a hairbrush? And a full can of hairspray?”

“Screw you, Jetster.” Iridium actually managed a half smile.

“Go shower, get clean,” Jet said. “Then we can get some food and talk. About your dad. About everything.”

“I don’t really want to talk,” Iridium protested. “I just wanted to make sure the big lug was going to be safe with you supertypes.”

“Well, I want to talk,” Jet said. “Besides, I believe you said something before about margaritas.”

“There’s something I can’t figure out,” Jet said.

Iridium downed her second margarita. At least now she didn’t feel empty. Just numb and slightly buzzed. Taking a guess, she said, “How Hypnotic escaped from Blackbird?”

Jet raised an eyebrow. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Eh, you’re easy. What else does an OCD superheroine think about in her free time?”

Jet smiled as she took a bite of enchilada. “Well?” she asked around the cheese.

“Radar,” Iridium replied. “He pretended to be an inmate named Radar. Mind control, from the very beginning. If that guy didn’t have puppets to string along, he’d be useless.” She sneered, trying to be tough and pretend Hypnotic hadn’t gotten to her, but the memory flashed all the same.

Bruce, the smiling crowd, her father free and happy and by her side.

“Son of a bitch.” Iridium frowned at her empty glass. “I’m glad he got what he deserves.”

“Me too,” Jet said absently, staring at the fish tank in the corner of the restaurant. A lionfish floated alone among the coral, fins flicking sadly.

“Well, this has been fun and all, but I should be getting back.” Iridium signaled for the check. The restaurant had human waiters, another plus. She’d been around far too many extrahumans lately. “Wreck City isn’t going to clean itself up.”

“Iri, wait.” Jet downed the dregs of her margarita. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”

Iridium shook her head at the waiter. “Cancel that. Bring me another one of these.” She waved her glass, and the man retreated.

Jet told Iridium about Taser’s plan, the blackmail … and the founding of an independent superteam, one that went beyond the extrahumans.

Iridium snorted. “So Taser is what, now … Superconsultant?”

“If we did form a new team,” Jet said hesitantly, “I’d want you to be a part of it.”

Iridium choked on her first sip of new margarita. “Excuse me?”

“Say yes, Iri.”

Iridium wrinkled her brow. “For Christo’s sake … why? Why do you want me?”

“What happened during Fifth Year … that’s behind us. You got a raw deal. You didn’t get a chance to work with the Squadron until this week. You’re good, Iri. Damn good. And I miss you. I miss my old partner.” She bit her lip. “I miss my friend.”

“What is this,” Iri muttered, “Extrahuman Confessions?”

Jet waved a hand. “Never mind, Callie. I can see you’re not comfortable with the idea. Forget I said anything.”

“Are you kidding? I’d be happy to be part of the team.” To be wanted. Needed.

To have her friend back.

Jet grinned at Iridium. “Together again. Just like old times.”

Iridium took a gulp of margarita and grinned back. “Christo, I hope not.”

CHAPTER 60

JET

Received Matthew Icarus’s original notes after Aunt Sarah’s funeral. Spent the weekend reading. Everything I’d thought about extrahumans was wrong.

—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #48

E
xcuse me, ma’am?”

Jet looked up from the mounds and mounds of raw data. “Please, Tara,” she said tiredly. “Just call me Jet.”

The Runner blushed. “Sorry, ma’am. Um, Jet. Here.” She handed Jet a memory stick.