The dark logic of it was clear to her. “By doing it, he also forced those other Batteries to learn to control their powers. It probably kept them from going nuclear.”
Robinson nodded. “Yes. I'm condensing a lot, here, but you've got the basic shape of it. We took him into custody, of course. At the time I was still trying to process what happened in Fairmont, so I didn't think of what I was doing when I reported all of this to my superiors. Had I taken the time, I would have waited. An hour later, he was gone from our custody. A day after that I was sent in to handle securing what was left of Fairmont. I learned a short time later that our mystery man had planned much further ahead than anyone knew. It was his idea to build the facility. He knew we'd need a place to put the more dangerous Next.”
“You said you didn't learn his name until later,” Kit interjected. “I'm guessing you ran into him again?”
Robinson nodded wearily. “I have no idea what kind of leverage he had, but rather than put the man into a cell inside some mountain and pretend he didn't exist, he was put on the payroll. The groundwork was being laid for the DSA, and while I oversaw the cleanup and construction, people way above my pay grade were considering me for secretary of the department. As such, I had to choose key personnel, but one position in the hierarchy we had in place at the time had been filled. Head of Research. I was too busy to visit the lab set up for him, but the reports I read claimed this scientist was making huge leaps in our understanding of the Next. It was several months before I finally met him, and when I did, I recognized him at once. My anonymous writer and mass murderer.”
Robinson met Kit's eyes. “You know him as Dr. Nunez.”
The intercom in his room blared, jolting him into angry consciousness. Ray had taken medicine to help him sleep, and even then it had been past two in the morning before he finally managed it. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Just past four. What the hell?
“Ray,” came Archer's tired voice. “Get dressed, you have an emergency.”
“What is it?” Ray asked, instantly awake. He snatched clothes from the dresser, certain that being called up in the wee hours of the morning could be nothing good.
“That guy you left on the rooftop, Frank Brawner?” Archer said. “He's standing on top of that new office building they're working on downtown. He has a hostage, and he's only willing to talk to you.”
Ray froze. “A hostage?”
“Yeah,” Archer's tinny voice said from the intercom, thick with emotion. “It's Graysen Ross. She was out with some of the other trainees last night, but said she was heading back early. Not feeling well. She never got back.”
“Fuck,” Ray said, furious with himself. “I'm such an idiot! Fuck!”
“Just get up here,” Archer said. “Kovacs is getting ready, too. He's on call tonight, so grab him on your way up. Don't focus on blaming yourself right now, Ray. Just think about getting Graysen home safe.”
Ray grunted and pulled on a t-shirt. “What kind of backup am I getting?”
There was a loaded pause as he pulled on a pair of jeans. “Archer?”
“No backup,” Archer said reluctantly. “Not close, anyway. He says if he sees cops or agents, she dies.”
Ray swore, even more colorfully this time. “No snipers or anything, I guess?”
“The cops are looking into it, but probably not. The building he picked was a good one. There aren't any good lines of sight. Not ones that will guarantee the shooters won't be seen. If the police come up with something, they'll let us know.”
An empty building, a psychotic with enhanced strength and durability, and no backup except Kovacs, who had the same frailties as any other human being. Great.
Ray slipped his holster and pulse gun onto his hip as he went out the door, tennis shoes squeaking on the concrete. Kovacs came out of the on-call barracks before Ray even got close to it, much less knock. The two of them ran to the nearest transport, a very basic elevator housed behind a wall panel that opened to the touch. This one was an emergency lift, not meant for everyday use. It went directly to the top level, which would make the trip much faster.
After the lift, they ran. Ray blew past Archer, who was waiting in the main office with a set of keys.
“God, I hope we're not too late,” Ray said as they tore away from the facility a minute later, headlights spearing through the predawn gloom.
“Radio check,” Archer said through Ray's earpiece.
“Clear,” Ray said.
“Clear,” Kovacs said.
“We'll be listening on this end,” Archer said. “I've got a hostage negotiator ready to patch in. Brawner is using a cell phone to contact us, and we can put him through to you if we need to. Other than that, we're flying blind.” Archer paused, then: “Try not to piss this guy off.” There was no trace of humor in the words.
“We won't,” Kovacs said. “Professional all the way. Neither of us wants anything to happen to that kid.”
They parked two blocks east of their destination. Ray was supposed to show up alone, but Kovacs was having none of it.
“I'll be there,” Kovacs said before they separated. “Not far behind you. He can't watch everywhere at once. After he sees you move in through the eastern entrance, I'll move around and come in from the west.”
“If you think you can do it without being seen,” Ray said hesitantly.
“I can,” Kovacs said reassuringly. “This isn't my first rodeo. We'll get her out safe. Just distract him when you get to the roof. Stall him.”
Ray nodded, then jogged off. He channeled his stores of energy into his own body, strengthening muscles, joints, and bones. He pushed until the sensation became almost painful, then backed off a little.
Never had he felt so alive, so powerful. The pavement blurred beneath his sneakers as his feet pounded against it with rhythmic slaps. The run took him a fraction of the time it would have otherwise, and when he approached the temporary fence surrounding the work site Ray didn't even slow.
From a dead run he jumped, curling his body in a partial front flip. His hands caught the top of the fence, directing his momentum up and over. Ray didn't stick the landing, however, overcompensating slightly as he came back to earth and not planning for the small pile of scrap lumber sitting near the inside of the fence. Luckily he managed to land without breaking anything, and darted toward the eastern door without too much self-recrimination.
Ray pounded up the steps two at a time, desperate to get to the top. The building wasn't exceptionally tall for the city, but was far enough away from the other high rises to stand out.
Still, he wished for a working elevator. Awesome super powers notwithstanding, Ray was gasping for air by the time he reached the top, his legs burning with what he knew would be agonizing soreness tomorrow. More than a fair trade if he got Graysen out of this alive.
He paused at the door leading to the roof. Brawner was unstable, but Ray wasn't sure if murder was in his nature. While Ray didn't want the girl harmed, he didn't fancy walking through the door without his pulse gun
ready
on the off chance he could get in a shot first.
Ray turned the handle slowly, then braced himself against the door to hold it open. He stepped through, pulse gun
moving with his gaze as it swept
across the roof.
No sign of Brawner.
Ray moved out and turned, checking around the entrance carefully. His first impression was right; Brawner was not on the roof. Graysen, however, was. He nearly looked past her, a dark tangle amid the white gravel on the roof. Ray rushed over and checked her pulse. Alive, if unconscious.
Deep, red rage filled him as he tried to move her. Half of Graysen's face was bruised, centered in a fist-shaped oval on her left temple and orbital ridge. There was swelling but no obvious deformity, though they would have to get X-Rays done to be sure no bones were broken. Ray sat her upright, which was when he discovered the handcuffs.
Her right wrist was locked to a low pipe running from an AC unit. Ray made short work of it, wrapping his hand around the chain and channeling a brief but intense disintegration field from his palm. The chain and locking mechanisms of the cuffs fell to dust, the remaining solid parts falling to the gravel with a muffled pinging noise.
“Graysen, wake up,” Ray said, gently patting the uninjured side of her face. There was no reaction at all. He tried to think of something he could do to wake her without hurting her, but nothing came to mind.
Then he had it.
Ray focused himself just as he had done in Kit's apartment, and sent a burst of energy through the girl.
She woke with a gasp, eyes the size of saucers. She looked at Ray, who held her shoulders gently while he crouched, then at the night sky. The momentary confusion dissipated in a few seconds. Graysen gave a small moan, putting a hand gingerly to her swollen face.
“I was going to ask what happened,” she rasped, massaging her throat, “but I remember now. That son of a bitch caught me off guard while I was walking back to my car. Punched me in the face.”
With her mobile, Ray could see the regularly-spaced bruises on her throat. “He choke you, too?”
She nodded. “I woke up after he got me up here and cuffed. I managed to kick him in the balls pretty hard. He must have cut off my air long enough to knock me back out. Fucker.”
“Don't worry, he's gonna get his,” Ray said. “But for right now, we need to get you out of here. Can you walk?”
She nodded, pushing herself shakily to her feet. Ray reached out and caught her shoulders again, steadying her.
“Thanks,” she said. “Little dizzy.”
Ray shook his head. If he took the hits she looked to have taken, chances were good he'd have been more than just a little dizzy. Tough as nails, this kid.
Before they could take more than a few steps toward the door, heavy footsteps rang out from the stairs. Ray cursed under his breath. “Think you can fly?” he asked hopefully.
“Not flying, exactly,” she said in a tone that implied she explained this often. “It's just picking which direction I fall...” She winced, shaking her head. “No, I don't think it'd be safe. Even touching my powers made me dizzy.”
There was a deafening clang as the door was kicked open. Brawner stepped around the corner, a body over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. He caught sight of Ray and Graysen, white teeth gleaming in the darkness as he smiled. “Well,
there
you are,” he said, tossing his burden to the gravel.
Kovacs tumbled bonelessly, sending a small wave of loose stone rolling across the roof. Ray's heart tried to burst from his chest, half in rage and half worry. He let the Surge roll up into his vision, trying to see if the man was alive.
The cold green filter over the world didn't help, of course. Kovacs wasn't Next. Even if he had been, bodies usually retained Surge energy for a time after death.
“Oh, don't worry,” Brawner said, his voice casual. “Your partner is fine, even though I told you to come alone. I hardly had to try. Caught him from behind.”
“I'm here,” Ray said through gritted teeth. “Like you wanted. Let them go and you can do what you like with me.”
Brawner laughed so hard he bent at the waist, hands on knees. “Oh, God, that's rich,” he finally said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Wasn't it just a little while ago you were making fun of
me
for acting like something out of a movie? Now you stand there and talk like every hero in every damn story I've ever read. That's a lot of balls.”
Every muscle in Brawner's body looked ready to explode; his bare forearms were sharply defined ropes snaking around his bones. Worse was his Surge glow, which was much brighter than their previous meeting. With Kovacs unconscious and Graysen unable to safely use her powers, it would be up to him to stop this man.
Even with his own powers pushing his body to the peak of what it could do, he was nowhere near a match for Brawner physically. The other man clearly knew this as he grinned at Ray, savoring the moment.
“Throw your gun over the side of the roof,” Brawner said, “or I'll kick your partner in the head. And it won't be a love tap this time.”
Ray didn't hesitate to comply, not doubting for an instant the man was deadly serious.
“Now come over to me, and the girl can pull your buddy over there with her.”
Ray glanced back at Graysen, nodding to her. The young woman was hollow-eyed where she wasn't swollen, her skin pallid enough to notice even in the gloom, but she looked determined. Ray had no doubt she would do everything she could for Kovacs. Ray only wished he could do more himself.
He stepped forward, but before his foot could touch down he found his windpipe squeezed shut.
There was a sharp pain in his shoulder, though he was unable cry out.
“That's supposed to knock out your powers,” Brawner breathed in Ray's ear. “He told me it'd make you easy to handle for a few hours.”
Darkness began to creep in at the edges of Ray's vision. His hands tore at Brawner's arm ineffectively, weakening by the second. Just before unconsciousness could take him, Ray was thrown down. Gravel scraped his skin and tore his clothes, but no amount of discomfort could tarnish the sweet, heavenly joy of that next breath.
Not even the solid kick to his ribs that came next.
Within five seconds, that wonderful moment was forgotten. For the second time in handful of days, Ray was beaten. That was as far as the comparison could go, however. What James Shane had done to him had been the candle to this man's bonfire. Human strength could do enough damage to kill, certainly, but there were physical limits to consider. Not so with Brawner, who rained down kicks and punches with the precision of a surgeon.
Ray wasn't hit anywhere that could kill him outright. Once or twice, Brawner stepped in to slam his head against the ground, more to keep him disoriented than cause harm. Brawner didn't want him alert enough to formulate an attack, but wanted the beating to last as long as possible.
The muscles in his legs were pummeled until Ray began to lose feeling in them. This was a blessing, if a short one, as his reduced screams caused Brawner to move on to Ray's arms.
He could hear Graysen shouting as if from a great distance, though he couldn't make out the words. Before he could try to focus on them, a new sensation began to spread through him.
It began at the site Brawner had used to inject him with whatever stuff was in the syringe. It was a curious feeling, separate from the agony wracking his body. Warmth spread through him, enveloping his entire body in a matter of seconds.
His Surge vision, lost after his concentration slipped during the assault, sprang back to life. No, that wasn't right. The world wasn't painted in shades of green. Only him.