Heroes Lost and Found (18 page)

“Maybe,” I replied. “But wouldn’t you rather be your own man making your own decisions?”

The speedster paused by the door, smirking. “Good night.”

“What time is it?” I asked as the door swung shut. “What time is it?”

The lights went out, leaving me in the darkness with Kit’s body. I could smell the burnt, charred flesh and the blood, the remains moving towards eventual decomposition and all those other lovely bodily functions we don’t like to think about happening when someone dies.

I curled up as far as I could from the corpse and tried to sleep, tried to plan some sort of attack, some sort of rescue.

All I got was a headache.

“Wake up, sunshine.” The stern voice jolted me awake.

I blinked as I looked up at Dykovski. He wore a clean black shirt and dark green pants.

“I hope you slept well.” He nudged the nearby body with a booted toe. “Or at least well enough to behave yourself. Another day, another dollar.”

My internal clock screamed bullshit. It hadn’t been that long since the lights went off. I smiled, determined to play out his little mental game. “Slept like a baby.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I flinched, preparing for the incoming attack. Instead something landed on my head, light and smelling of man sweat. My nose wrinkled at the unfamiliar smell.

“I thought we’d go for a walk. Get dressed.”

I unfolded the black T-shirt. “Sorry, I’ve sort of gotten used to going haute couture. But thank you.”

One end of his mouth moved downward into a snarl before he caught himself.

My mother didn’t raise any stupid supers. I knew the game. Screw with my body then screw with my mind to break me down, make me more pliable for his warped logic.

He knelt and undid the padlock. “Come, let’s go for a stroll.”

I uncurled myself and got out of the cage, suppressing my shivering. It was still damned cold in the room, and I was sure that was on purpose.

“Come.” Dykovski put his hands behind his back and walked towards the open door. “Let me show you around your temporary home.”

I followed, leaving the shirt behind.

“I was a bit hard on you yesterday. I realize that now.” The next room held a single wooden desk, typical guard post. An empty chair showed where Thrasher and Hot Foot had sat watching me, the small black-and-white monitor displaying Kit’s body and the empty cage.

Dykovski unlocked the door on the other side of the room. “But I think you’ll come to find me a friend and confidant, given the circumstances. We could really make an excellent team, Surf. With me as your Guardian there’s so much we could do.” He dragged out the last word, turning it into a suggestion.

Again I bounced between shivering and throwing up.

We walked into a living room, the floor covered with a standard military-issue grey carpet, thin and scratchy under my feet. Thrasher sat on the sofa with Hot Foot, their attention on the video game running on the large flat-screen mounted on the wall. They glanced at Dykovski but said nothing, focusing more on the first-person shooter images as they saved the free world from aliens. Hot Foot’s hands flashed on the controller so fast I couldn’t see his fingers.

“You’re cheating.” Thrasher nudged Hot Foot’s foot.

“Not really. Computer’s too slow to work at my speed. I’m the one with the disadvantage here,” he shot back with a toothy grin.

Dykovski chuckled as he patted the heads of the two men. “Don’t break it, boys. Might be hard to get another one where we’re going.” He waved a hand at the plush recliner in the corner. “Here, have a seat.”

I resisted the urge to leap into it and wallow like a pig in fresh mud. “Where’s Harris?”

Dykovski pursed his lips. “He’s fine. Now, about us…”

“There is no
us
, Nicholas. There is you and there is me.” I pointed at the two men on the sofa. “How long before you kill all of us? Just like Kit.”

Thrasher gave me a sideways glance, gaze quickly darting back to the screen. Hot Foot didn’t turn away from the game.

“Inferno was long past his expiration date. I really thought the bastard was dead. Never even considered he might still be alive, never in a thousand years thought he’d have some sort of dud plug. Thank you, by the way, for flushing him out. God knows how long he’s been waiting to make his move. Better that we clean the mess up now than later.” He pointed at the chair again. “Please, sit.”

A few steps took him to a mini fridge in the corner. He swung the door open to reveal a stack of sodas and chilled chocolate bars, one shelf filled with wrapped sandwiches.

“You must be hungry. Please, help yourself.”

My stomach hummed with want. I crossed my arms in front of me, willing my fickle system to behave. “Harris. Please.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, have it your way.” A snap of his fingers brought the two supers out of their gaming haze. “Anyone check in on the rookie lately?”

“Took him to the bathroom an hour ago, boss,” Thrasher said. “Seemed fine to me.”

“Good. Continue.” Dykovski led me to the other door. I was getting confused with all these doors and rooms. It was an underground maze, set up specifically to confuse anyone who wasn’t already familiar with the layout. Another Agency cache.

The hallway was badly lit, the few emergency lights flickering as we moved down the corridor. Dust bunnies collected in corners, waiting for my feet to disturb them into commuting to another location. This location had been mothballed for months before our arrival.

A small flicker of hope burned in my mind. If I was lucky, the Agency had emptied this out before abandoning it. Meaning Dykovski didn’t have as many toys as before. It wasn’t much, but anything that kept more tech out of his hands was a good thing.

We strolled along the long passageway, Dykovski keeping his hands behind his back as I stretched out cramped and aching leg muscles. My bare feet twitched on the cold floor, but I couldn’t spare the energy to fly.

“I’ve decided that I’d like you to lead my team, Surf.” The comment came out of nowhere.

I laughed and then braced myself for an incoming blow.

Nothing happened.

“I’m serious, Surf.” Dykovski stopped and unlocked a door. “You’re strong, smart. You showed me yesterday you could lead them. You think on the fly and make things happen. That’s a good aspect of being a leader.”

“I already have a team,” I replied. “And a Guardian who doesn’t beat the shit out of me.”

“Ah, yes. Hunter Dillon.” He chuckled as he walked through the doorway. “And before that, Mike Pratt. Metal Mike.” He said the names as if spitting out sour milk. “We’ll discuss them later. I think I can make you an offer you can’t refuse.” He laughed at his own joke.

The room was identical to the one I’d left a few minutes ago, the same small cage in the center of the otherwise empty room.

No dead man, however.

Harris glanced up. He sat cross-legged in the cage, looking bored. My first instinct was to ask him why he hadn’t burned through the bars and gotten out.

My second one, the survival one, kicked in. He’d have gotten about as far as Kit had if he’d tried to escape.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Sure.” He smiled, his attention darting over to Dykovski before coming back to me. “Just fine, thanks.”

Dykovski turned to me. “Good. I appreciate your loyalty to your friend. It shows responsibility for others, and I like that in a leader. Now let’s talk.” He leaned on the cage, oblivious to Harris scuttling to the other side. “You’ve had a pretty good run as a rogue, Surf. But it’s time to come home and do your duty.”

“I have a home.” I nodded towards Harris. “I have friends and a team.”

The muscle under Dykovski’s left eye twitched once as his face hardened, signaling the end of the good-guy game.

“You have nothing,” Dykovski snapped. He stood up straight, throwing off the casual friend persona. He sliced the air with his hand, the chopping motion perilously close to my neck. “You have only what I choose to give you. You want to eat? You want to wear clothing? You want to sleep? I decide where and when and how much. That’s what a Guardian is supposed to do, control every aspect of his super’s life.” A sneer twisted his face. “You’ve been spoiled by those two misfits, those lazy bastards.”

I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to slap him into next Tuesday. “Mike was a good man who gave his life for his country.”

“Bah.” Dykovski spat on the floor, inches from the cage. “He was a military misfit who got into the Guardian program because his daddy was a high-ranking officer. He spoiled you, Surf. Treated you like an equal, played with you, screwed you when you needed to get laid.” His mouth spun into a wide grin. “You ever think he was just playing with you? Fucking with your mind to keep you easy, pliable to go and do what they wanted?”

The seeds of doubt got no traction in my mind.

“Obviously you don’t know me as well as you thought.” I let out a sharp laugh. “And you didn’t know Mike at all. He was solid.” I paused, remembering the gentle giant. “More of a man than you were or ever could be.”

Dykovski didn’t flinch. “He followed the rules, played his part. And in the end it got him nothing but a smoking crater in New York City while you ran and hid like the little girl you are, the coward he raised who left him to die.” He pointed his index finger at me. “You left him. He died alone and afraid, crying and pissing himself in his metal suit as the numbers counted down. He was a hero.” He sneered. “What does that make you?”

Tears rose and threatened to blind me as I held back, digging my nails into my palms to keep control.

“And Dillon, don’t get me going on that pussy. Gets hooked up with an old lady who’s too stupid to know when to die. Agency should have locked them both up, kept her training and ready to go off like a cannon when she was needed. Instead he’s prancing around with her in the background, trying to keep her safe and sound until she grows a pair and dies like a warrior, doing what she was called to do.” Dykovski stepped forward, thrusting his shaking finger right in my face. “You were supposed to die, Surf. You ran and lived and got lucky. But that stops here and now. You lead my team and live, or I’ll make you regret the day you ever got your powers.”

“Give it your best shot,” I growled, my patience done and gone. “And go fuck yourself, while I’m thinking about it.”

Dykovski drew his hand back. “I’ll give you to the boys, and then we’ll see how mouthy you—” Suddenly his face contorted into a yelp, a scream replacing his curse. He looked down, his slap frozen in midair.

Harris squeezed his leg again, just above the top of his right boot. The dark green fabric smoked and burned as he interlaced his fingers, forming a locked circle around the limb.

“You little…” Dykovski brought his fist down hard and broke the super’s hold with a single sharp punch on the exposed fingers.

Harris withdrew into the cage as far as he could from Dykovski’s rage, already putting his hands up.

“Fuckin’…” Dykovski inspected his leg, yanking the cloth up to study the damage. The burns weren’t bad, the pants taking the brunt of the attack. The bright red spots looked painful, small scarlet ovals dotting his ghost-white skin.

The cage rocked as Dykovski kicked it, his rage deflected away from me for the moment.

“Stupid.” Dykovski shot another boot to the cage, this one catching Harris’s right shoulder.

Harris recoiled to one side, tucking his fingers under his armpits.

“What has Surf ever done for you?” Dykovski yelled. “She played the hero. You played the villain. A few months ago she’d have beaten your ass down if you met on the playing field. What has she ever done to earn this?”

Harris sat up straight, the confidence in his voice growing with each word. “We saved the world together. She’s a Protector. And so am I. She’s my team leader.” He looked at me with a sad smile. “And her name is Jo.”

I wasn’t sure if I was going to burst from pride or from fear as Dykovski turned back to me, red with rage.

“She’s your… She’s your…” He huffed, gasping for air. “She’s nothing but a stupid woman.” His hands curled into fists. “A stupid woman.”

The hard punch sent me flying across the room. The wall broke my fall, allowing me to sit down and give the ringing in my ears time to leave.

I looked up to see Dykovski standing over me, panting as he visibly shook from head to foot, the rage threatening to take full control.

“You are a super. I am a Guardian. You do what I say or you do nothing at all.” He pointed his left hand at me, displaying the wristband. “I will save this world from itself and from freaks like you. Freaks who don’t deserve to live and sure as hell don’t deserve to be treated as equals.”

“You’re nuts.” I coughed. “The world needs saving from you.”

“And you’re going to do it?” He laughed, drawing his leg back for a kick. “When I finish with you, you’re going to beg for death, Surf.”

Harris yelled, straining against the bars in a futile attempt to draw the crazed man away from me. His fingers stretched out as far as they could and still fell short.