DIRE : BORN Read online

  I rubbed my shoulder where he'd slapped it. The brief warmth had reminded me just how cold it was out here. The barrel fire helped, but didn't negate the chill. Joan took my hand and steered me through the crowd, past a crowd of giggling children, around a bald, middle-aged man who was having a serious talk with himself about spiders, and over a passed-out woman who reeked of chemicals.

  Alcohol. The glass bottles around her lent credence to the notion. I pursued the memory, came up with a brick wall. Locked out of my own brain... I scowled, looking out into the night.

  We came to a large white tent, set upon a wooden platform.

  “Here we are, hun.” Joan held the curtain open, pointed to a welcome mat. “Wipe your feet, okay?”

  She led me into a makeshift hallway, with plastic and cloth partitions to either side. The squat woman checked a couple, then pulled one open. “Here we go.”

  I pointed to the lone lantern dangling from a central hook in the hallway. “How does that suffice to heat the entire tent?”

  She chuckled. “It doesn't. We're just really well insulated, and the body heat helps. Got about twenty people in here, and as long as no one leaves the door open it builds up. Got two layers of cloth for the tent walls. Roof's got actual insulation between its layers, and the partitions help trap it too. The platform below's filled in with gravel and sand, so we don't have cold air seeping through.”

  The little 'room' Joan offered was perhaps four feet wide and seven feet long, but the pile of sheets in the back of it looked absolutely beautiful. It looked a little short for my six-foot frame, but I figured I'd cope. I pulled out my cash, counted out three dollars, and handed it over to Joan.

  She took it and leaned in close. I ignored her smell as best I could, as our eyes met.

  “Word of advice: Don't flash that again around here. Rules say no stealing, but that much money's mighty tempting to some, hun. Maybe find a couple of places on you to stash it, so when you pay for something you only show a little at a time? That'd probably work.”

  I nodded. “So, what are the rules around here? No stealing? Anything else?”

  “Don't hurt anyone, don't bring bad stuff down on us. Don't sell drugs here. Stay out of trouble as much as you can. There's a porta-john down the beach, crap there. Don't sleep with anyone in here, go outside for that or in their tent. She scratched her head, leaned back a bit, shrugged.

  “If you need anything ask for me. If I'm not around, ask for Minna. Speak real slow, she's from some other country. Oh, and try to be a good neighbor, 'kay? Um. Yeah, that's about it. Got anything else to discuss, hun?”

  Nothing came to mind.

  “Good. Sleep well, huh? Something tells me you've had a hard day.”

  I smiled and pulled the partition shut. I removed my shoes, settled my possessions, and burrowed into the sheets. They were just as warm as they'd looked from outside the room.

  And yet, I couldn't sleep. After a few restless minutes I moved back to the doorway of the tent and peeled the flap aside, peered out into the night. The dark ocean rolled on, and I traced my scalp, and the rough lines of crusty stitches. I'd remade my brain by my own methods. What had old me been thinking? She'd left a video explaining the methods behind her madness, but thanks to enemy interruption I'd only gotten through part of it. Inconvenient, that.

  Light flashed on the shoreline, near the spill pipe.

  Company? How had anyone survived the traps?

  I gnawed my lip and looked toward the fire. Everyone left around it was still watching the city, flinching at the distant gunshots, and looking more worried with each passing minute.

  No, I couldn't rest just yet. If I didn't go take care of my pursuers, one of my new friends might spot something and investigate. It wouldn't be right if they got hurt on my account. So I moved back into my little partition, grabbed my things, and slipped into the darkness once more. Back to the spill pipe, and as I went I pulled on my mask.

  It worked like the first time I'd put it on. For a second everything was darkness, with flickering lights at the edge of my vision. Then it almost seemed to melt away, leaving my vision unobstructed. That was due to the screen inside, which mirrored what I would see if the mask wasn't present. It meant that I didn't need eye slits or anything to enhance my peripheral vision. For a second more the air was tight and clammy, then the rebreather kicked in, and I drew a normal breath.

  The area around me kicked into focus as I went, the night vision extending my sight. I squinted toward the spill pipe, and my mask zoomed in without needing to be told. Someone was there, caught in the pylons under the piers. The light was a flashlight tactically-mounted on his assault rifle. The gun was caught up by its strap against a separate pylon, twisting in the waves and blinking every time it swung my way.

  I pulled my pistol as I approached, kept it pointed at the struggling figure. He took no notice of me until I waded into the surf, and pulled his assault rifle free of the pylon.

  Then he whipped his face around to peer at me, eyes and nose a pale gash through the slit of his balaclava. It was black, as were the other cloth parts of his outfit. The kevlar and plasteel of his partial body armor was a dull gray, that matched his helmet. An insignia on the helmet made a crooked, crosshatched mess of lines in a vague spiral pattern.

  My mask's display highlighted dark patches in the sand, and smears on the spillpipe. He hadn't made it through the traps unscathed.

  “Help me,” he whispered.

  “YOU WERE SHOOTING AT HER A FEW MINUTES AGO,” I muttered back. NOW YOU WANT HER HELP?” He flinched. I didn't blame him. Even with the volume dialed down, my voice modulator's screeching howl sounded not unlike a cat going through a woodchipper.

  “You! You should be dead—” He was interrupted by sudden motion, and fought to keep his hands around the pylon. The man was slipping backward, drawn toward the ocean. I eyed the dark water underneath the pier, and nodded. An undertow there, by the look of things. Cold water, that much blood lost, a strong undertow... no, he wouldn't last much longer without help. Could I get some answers here? Possibly.

  “YOU'LL HAVE TO FORGIVE HER,” I said, trying to be polite. “SHE DOESN'T KNOW THE PROPER METHOD OF ADDRESSING AN ENEMY. WHAT IS THE PROPER THING TO SAY?”

  “Fuck you bitch!”

  “THANK YOU. VERY WELL, FUCK YOU BITCH TOO.”

  He stared at me, and I wondered if blood loss had made him stupid. I might not get much out of him after all. Still, no harm in trying.

  “WHY DO YOU WISH DIRE DEAD?”

  “Who the fuck is Dire?”

  I tapped my chest. “HER. DIRE.”

  His eyes shut. He lurched against the pier, took a mouthful of water, and sputtered. “Christ... a psycho...”

  “WAIT. YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WHO SHE WAS, AND YOU WANTED HER DEAD? WHY?”

  “Orders. Just orders. Nothing personal.”

  “OH. WELL, THAT'S GREAT EXCEPT FOR THE PART WHERE IT'S NOT. WHY DID YOU FOLLOW SUCH HORRIBLE ORDERS?”

  “Legs. Can't feel my legs...”

  “AH, THAT'S PROBABLY THE MONOFILAMENT MINES. DIRE ESTIMATED THEY WOULD ACCOUNT FOR AT LEAST THREE OF YOU, WHEN SHE FOUND THEM. KIND OF IMPRESSED THAT YOU MANAGED TO CRAWL THIS FAR PAST THEM.”

  “Please...”

  “PLEASE? NO. YOU'RE THE ONE TRYING TO KILL A STRANGER BECAUSE SOME JERK TOLD YOU TO. SAYING PLEASE WILL NOT AID YOU HERE.”

  “Help me.”

  “TELL HER WHO SENT YOU.”

  “Web.”

  “SHE DOESN'T KNOW THAT NAME.”

  “Not a name. It's... Organization...”

  “OKAY. SO WHO IN THE ORGANIZATION SENT YOU?”

  “Don't know. We're cells—” He coughed, and I saw there wasn't much left to him. His strength was ebbing. “Save me. Please.”

  I sighed, and settled down on my haunches. “SEE, HERE'S THE THING. SHE'D BE TEMPTED TO DO SO, BUT THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE IN THE EQUATION NOW. AND IF YOU'RE THE SORT OF GUY WHO KILLS STRANGERS WITHOUT CARING, YOU'RE T
HE SORT OF PERSON WHO WOULD BE A THREAT TO THEM.”

  “Please. I won't...” more coughing.

  I spread the fingers of my free hand. “NO. LOOK, THEY ACCEPTED HER WITHOUT ASKING AWKWARD QUESTIONS. THEY'RE FRIENDLY. SURE, THEY SMELL A LITTLE FUNNY, AND SURE, SOME OF THEM ARE PROBABLY INSANE. BUT THEY'RE THE FIRST FRIENDLY PEOPLE SHE'S MET TONIGHT. NOT GONNA LET YOU NEAR THEM.”

  He was silent, and for a second I thought he'd finally lost consciousness. But then the sound of sobbing came to my ears, and I sighed.

  “OKAY. OKAY, LOOK. HERE, SHE'LL DO YOU A FAVOR.”

  “Save... me?”

  “NOPE. BUT YOU WON'T HAVE TO SUFFER THROUGH DROWNING.” I looked around for a suitable piece of debris, and smiled when I found it. I pulled a 2-liter soda container from the shoreline, and jammed the barrel of my gun into the plastic neck.

  He didn't have nightvision, so he couldn't see me aim the 2-liter toward him. Gripping the underside of the plastic as tightly as I could, I used my other hand to squeeze the trigger.

  A red star bloomed in his forehead, just under the brim of the helmet. The sound of the shot echoed under the pier, but not half as loudly as it would have without my makeshift noise suppressor.

  Gloved hands went limp, and the next wave carried his corpse beneath the waves. I tossed the now-holed soda container into the ocean and holstered my pistol again. I looked at the assault rifle, and decided against the upgrade. Too much of a risk to take, too noticeable. So I tossed it into the waves and walked out from under the pier, picking my way back up the sandy slope.

  Well, that had been ugly business. Still, the fact that he'd been alone was encouraging. It meant that either everyone else had been killed by the traps, or they'd split up to investigate multiple directions.

  Then a terrible, awesome thought occurred to me; My pursuers wouldn't expect me to return to my lair. Not after they'd chased me away. Not so soon.

  I grinned, and set out into the night. Time to see if I could salvage something. I took a course west, ducking past more tents and an old shower house. Up the steps to the street, and I made my way into the darkened city.

  CHAPTER 2: Heroes and Harassment

  “We have enemies, and we'll make more as we go, I have no doubt of it. This isn't an ideal solution, but it keeps our loved ones out of the line of fire. There's nothing worse than having friends die because of the fights you picked, the actions you chose.”

  --Excerpt #2 from the Dire Monologues.

  Whatever killed the city's power had taken down the traffic lights. I crossed under a highway, and the roars of engines echoed down as the headlights shot by overhead. But motion in the city below was minimal. A flicker of light from slow-passing headlights, red taillights as a van stalled and stuck, unable to pass dark cars in the road ahead. A slow-moving traffic jam had wedged itself in between the dark buildings. The headlights provided the only illumination as I picked my way through, looking for the best angle on the crumbled building that I'd awakened within.

  On the upside, the traffic thinned out as I got closer to my destination. Though I wasn't the only one out on the streets tonight, most gave me a wide berth when they looked at my face. Well, more specifically, the mask over it. Some didn't pay attention to me at all, watching the building burn, and muttering about something called White You Kay.

  I couldn't help but notice signs of urban decay as I went... broken windows, bars over doors, crumbling stone on buildings that I instinctively knew were quite old. This was not a good neighborhood. It was evident in the clothes of those outdoors in the cold, barely a step up from my fellow refugees on the beach. Not that I was one to talk, or especially care. I blended in here, more so than I might in a more monitored place. Here, I might have more time to find my feet.

  As I turned the final corner to get an unobstructed view of the ruins, I stopped cold. Something, some vehicle hovered above it. Shaped like a plane with no visible engines, it was about as long as a city bus, and three times as wide. A rough triangle with wings, wide at the back and tapered toward the front. A long strip of shining glass ran around the front of it, extending halfway down the body on either side. Lights flared from the undercarriage, illuminating the wreckage below... and the figures moving over it.

  When I looked at the wreckage, a series of gray words floated into view.

  LAIR DESIGNATION: CRADLE

  DESTROYED, COMPROMISED. RECOMMEND RELOCATION.

  The figures examining the remains wore costumes and masks. One man with a blue jacket, white pants, and a white mask with goggles built into it. The back of his head was visible from my angle, showing black, short-cropped hair. He had a decent build, not too muscular but definitely in shape. He seemed to be waving something over various parts of the rubble, walking along it at odd angles that indicated that gravity was no major issue to him. At one point the rubble shifted and he hopped to another chunk, as the original crumbled.

  My mask chimed as I studied him, and green letters floated to the surface in my vision, letters that I knew only existed within my sight.

  “DOC” QUANTUM

  LEADER OF TOMORROW FORCE

  POWERS: GENIUS SCIENTIST, KNOWN GADGETEER

  I shifted to study the woman hovering in midair, watched as she gestured, and the falling rubble slowed and shifted directions. Instead of falling into the street, it piled itself neatly along the curb. She was blonde, long-haired, and wore a silver visor with a blue glow. Her blue bodysuit was skintight, but she had a white jacket over it, perhaps in deference to the cold. I noted that her figure was far more generous than mine and shrugged. Those things had to be murder on her back. Again, letters floated into my sight.

  KINETICA

  MEMBER OF TOMORROW FORCE

  POWERS: KINETIC CONTROL, ABSORPTION, ASSORTED GADGETS

  Tomorrow Force. Heroes, then? Seemed to fit the picture. Probably looking for answers, much as I was. I kept a safe distance. It helped that the light was bad here, and the other people on the street were focused on watching the costumed pair sift and poke through the rubble. Something bulged up from below, shifting the debris. Enormous fists, each as big as my head, pushed up through the wreckage. They were attached to equally massive metal arms that gleamed in the light, as a silver-and-blue armored form heaved itself up and raised a face to the sky. The mask over the face shone white with glowing blue eyes, and a grille for a mouth. It looked over to Doc Quantum, and from half a block away I heard his voice rumble.

  “No good, Doc. There was a tunnel below but it's caved in now. Damn little left behind.”

  And words floated up for him, too.

  SIEGEBREAKER

  MEMBER OF TOMORROW FORCE

  POWERS: CYBORG, STRENGTH, ARMOR, SELF-REPAIR ROUTINES

  Doc Quantum's head moved, he seemed to be responding. Siegebreaker nodded back.

  “Right sorry, I'll dial it down.”

  More discussion, and I frowned. No way to listen in without getting closer, and to do that I'd either have to lose the mask or become the center of attention. I didn't like either option. On the other hand, I wasn't too fond of the idea of going back to bed without answers.

  After a few seconds, it occurred to me that I had something useful for this. I removed my backpack, and crouched down behind an abandoned car. Old me had left myself four main useful devices. The mask, an electronic controller that was basically a universal remote, the forcefield generator, and a small scouting drone. That last one seemed the most useful for the situation, so I rummaged around inside the pack, found the ball drone, and looked for a good angle. After some searching, I found one. Now let's see, how did it activate... ah. There.

  I tapped the drone against the street, and a prompt popped up in the mask.

  ACTIVATE Y/N

  I twisted the ball until Y was highlighted, and tapped it again. A glowing outline appeared around my hand, and I put the ball on the ground. A circular shutter opened on the thing, and a screen appeared on my heads up display, showing what the dr
one 'saw'. I twisted my hand, and the drone tilted as the screen shifted to examine the underside of the car. A little bit of experimentation with hand gestures gave me arrows, which set it in motion. I straightened up as I rolled the thing down the street, past piles of rubble, and along the curb. It was silent and small, and as I got it within about fifty feet of Tomorrow Force a new prompt appeared

  AUDIO AVAILABLE: LISTEN Y/N

  Yes. Yes I did want to hear. That's the point of this little exercise. I swiveled my hand, knocked against the hood of the car to select “Y”. And voices faded in...

  “No bodies, beyond the WEB remains?” That was Doc Quantum. His voice was rich, calm, relaxed. The sort of voice one would want their most respected leaders to have. Then his words sunk in. I wondered if they'd found the tunnels full of WEB corpses, or just the ones that had died in the building.

  “Nada. This whole building must have been empty. Strange, you think that'd get noticed in this part of town.” Siegebreaker's was mechanical, and deep. Still recognizable as human, though.

  Kinetica tossed her head, and blonde hair flew as she folded her arms. “The right bribes to the right cops and dealers and no one would notice. This part of the Brownstones is all gangs and goodfellas. At least its emptiness means less dead, and if they're all WEB then I can't say I'll mourn too much.”

  “But why this building?” Quantum pondered, one gloved hand rubbing the short beard that protruded through the chin slot of his mask. “That was definitely thermite in the mix that destroyed an entire floor. There was something here that WEB wanted badly enough to draw attention and squander at least two squads of troopers.”

  Siegebreaker sighed, a rolling rumble of sound. “But no clues as to why the power grid's down, here or anywhere else. I was hoping the timing wasn't a coincidence. That maybe we could find some answers.”