The Infinite League Page 5

  “Pull it together,” she was telling him. “No one’s made any decisions yet.” She shot a glare at me that was pure venom.

  I had never felt so uninvited in my life.

  “You heard her,” another voice barked. “Calm down, Necromancer.”

  The voice was loud, commanding and insistent. At the sound of his voice, Necromancer finally stopped struggling and got a grip on himself. He was controlling his emotions finally, but only barely.

  The owner of the voice stepped past the old doctor and the others, coming to the foot of my bed. He stood there, examining me with a detached expression. Unlike the other uniformed officers walking past the door, this was definitely the dress uniform of an Army officer. He was an angry looking black man with a solid build, and he was holding his hat in hand with proper military bearing. The shiny eagle attached to his shoulder told me he was a colonel, and the multiple rows of colorful ribbons on his chest suggested he was a highly decorated one.

  And here I was, half-naked in a white gown, handcuffed to a bed with IV’s jammed in my wrist. I’m not normally a shy girl, but I pulled the thin sheet up over my body as much as I could as he stood there, drilling holes into me with his eyes.

  “Is it true?” he asked loudly, never taking his eyes off of me. “Is Andromeda down?”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

  “You haven’t gone deaf, have you?” he asked impatiently, shouting over his shoulder now. That’s when I realized he wasn’t talking to me. “What is Andromeda’s condition?”

  “Don’t be such a cold son of a bitch. She had a name, you know,” the woman told him, gently rubbing the Necromancer’s back. “It was Natalie. It’s true. She’s dead.”

  The colonel seemed unmoved. Frankly, he looked like he wanted to take out his sidearm and empty the clip into my chest.

  “This is another screw up in your happy little parade,” he complained, turning his attention towards the old doctor who’d been attending to me. “First the incident with the gangs in Phoenix, and now this? We have no one in the pipeline to fix this breach, so what do you suppose I go back and tell the committee in Washington?”

  “Tell them that Dr. Progeriat has everything under control,” said the old man smugly. He walked to the cabinet, and withdrew a slender steel box that looked like it was made from the same material the flight recorders from airplanes were made from. He slid his badge over the top, and the container opened. He removed the contents, which was a short length of fabric folder over several times. He carefully unwrapped it, revealing an item that I had just had a pretty gnarly experience with a few days ago.

  They were a pair of brown leather rectangles with golden laces, designed for wearing around the wrists. The last time I saw them, they were on Andromeda’s wrists, and they tried to attach themselves to me.

  Dr. Progeriat was holding each gauntlet in his hands, but the cords were moving independently, as if they were living snakes. The writhed and spiraled in the air, but they were definitely pointing directly towards me.

  “You’re sort of freaking me the hell out, buddy,” I warned him. “You wanna keep those things away from me, please?”

  The old man smiled, and thankfully obliged me by placing the leather bands back into the case, and closing the container. He looked at the colonel and shrugged.

  “Everyone, clear the room,” he decided. “I need to speak to our prisoner now.”

  “You can’t seriously be considering this,” Necromancer barked at the colonel. “Natalie was murdered, this girl was there!”

  “I read the debriefing yesterday,” he replied calmly. “It was an accidental shooting, the gun went off when the Muslim girl was struggling with you. You said so yourself.”

  “But there is—“

  “You have an assignment today,” the colonel reminded him. “Go do your job, and let me get back to mine. You too, Dr. Progeriat. Why don’t you go back to playing Farmville for the rest of the day?”

  There were no more words exchanged between them, and the four others eventually left the room. It was just him and I now.

  “My name is Colonel Franklin Bridges,” he began, taking a seat on the chair next to me. “I’m the director of the Department of Superhuman Activities. Under statute 18 U.S.C. 111 and 18 U.S.C. 112, you’ve been detained for participating in illegal activities.”

  “For stealing a fucking computer?”

  “For your involvement in activities that lead to the death of a government employee.”

  I really wasn’t as familiar with the federal statutes as I should have been, I was more concerned with local law enforcement and city regulations. But it didn’t sound good.

  “I probably should be talking to a lawyer, but the big scary guy already admitted it was an accident, right?”

  “You were just involved in the murder of the world’s most famous heroine. She had saved more lives in her lifetime than anyone I can think of. I know for a fact she’s averted a few disasters that would have certainly killed you or someone you know. Now, she’s gone. All her charity work, all her good causes, everything she stood for…taken away from the world because of you and your crew. The entire world is going to be screaming for blood, and they’re not going to give a damn that it was an accident. They are going to crucify you, because you have the lucky privilege of being the only one from your crew who could possibly stand trial.”

  If it was his intention to frighten me, he succeeded. I’ve been in the interrogation room many times, and I know the psychological tricks to use to scare someone. I’ve used them hundreds of times myself, and it’s usually to make someone give up crucial information to solve a case. But this wasn’t the case here. He didn’t need any information from me, because there was no mystery to be solved here. Andromeda was dead, and it was my fault.

  “So your big pit bull killed Eamon too?”

  “He fell three stories trying to escape,” he explained. “He’ll probably be eating food through a tube for the rest of his life.”

  “I want a lawyer,” I decided firmly. “And I want to let my son know I’m okay.”

  “Do you understand how popular she was? You might have well killed the President. The normal rules don’t apply to you, young lady.”

  “I am a police officer,” I screamed at him, struggling against my restraints.

  “You were a police officer,” he corrected me. “Up until three months ago, when you were fired for sexual misconduct.”

  “That was a bullshit charge,” I batted back, mentally making a note to kick the shit out of Seth Sharp the next time I saw him. “I want to see my son.”

  “And I’d like to see Andromeda again,” he replied. “But unfortunately, she’s dead now…and now the department has to figure out what do about you.”

  Colonel Bridge reached over the machines, and twisted a knob. A clear liquid started coursing through the tubes, feeding a sedative into my blood.

  “I want to see my son! I want to see my son! I WANT TO SEE MY SON, YOU ASSHOLE!”

  I managed to get one good kick that knocked that smug prick off his chair before finally succumbing to the drugs, and everything went cold and dark and silent once again.

  5

  The Audition

  Friday, May 2 - Noon

  I woke up in a room of undetermined distance from the previous holding cell, in a building that may or may not have been the same one, at a time that could have been an hour or a day later. Ordinarily, this meant I had downed more Mind Benders and Long Island Ice Teas than I should have. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep, and I couldn’t guess what they were going to do to me.

  When I opened my eyes, I found myself wearing a thin grey jumpsuit. This time, the handcuffs were gone and the medical equipment had been removed. Apparently, I wasn’t considered a medical risk or a particular threat anymore.

  But the room I was in was padded from floor to ceiling with thick rubber mats, the kind they used to keep mentally unbalanced people
safe before the advent of psychotropic drugs. I guess they didn’t want me injuring myself.

  There wasn’t much in the room. I took a quick inventory of what I had at my disposal, just in case an opportunity to escape presented itself. There was no desk, no mirrors and certainly no telephone. What remained was very little. A bed, a toilet, a sink and a single solid-steel door.

  “Hello?”

  I wasn’t really expecting anyone to answer, and the padded walls completely absorbed my voice. I could have screamed my lungs out, and I doubt anyone would have heard me.

  The single door in the room was a thick metal one, the kind used in penitentiaries. There was a pane of thick glass treated with a detention glazing polycarbonate that permitted me to look out into the hallway. The glass looked sturdy enough to stop a bullet, so punching at it would be useless. If I were desperate enough to rip the sink off the wall, I’d have to bang it against the glass for an hour before it would crack.

  There wasn’t anyone out in the hallway right now, and the corridor lights were depressingly dim. It gave me the impression that it was the middle of the night, but I’d been unconscious so often over the last few days that guessing the time was impossible.

  They didn’t leave me with any magazines, so the only remaining recreational activity I had left was to take a wicked piss. I was wearing the same panties that I was apprehended with, but the rest of my clothes were nowhere to be seen. It left me nervously wondering who changed my clothes and how much of me they saw.

  Were there any security cameras in the room, I was wondering? I really didn’t want my boy stumbling across video footage of his mother peeing on YouTube. I didn’t spot any cameras, and there still wasn’t anyone out in the hall. The coast was clear, I decided, and I dropped my undies and got a stream going.

  That’s when, of course, a man suddenly materialized right in front of me!

  “Holy fuck, man!”

  I usually try to be more of a lady than this, but his sudden appearance made me flinch and fire off a few splashes on my ankles as I repositioned my knees to keep from exposing myself. On the list of ten things that will have me swear like a sailor, pissing on myself is in the top three.

  Had he magically just appeared there? Who was he?

  “Do you fucking mind?”

  He didn’t move, but he was polite enough to look off to the side, giving me a chance to pull my panties back up. He remained silent.

  “Can I expect a chance to call my lawyer anytime soon?”

  There was still no reply from the man, who was now looking at me thoughtfully while stroking his dark moustache. He appeared to be a man in his late thirties, with thinning but well-groomed brown hair and strong shoulders. He was wearing a sweater and tie, with perfectly pleated tan slacks. There was no insignia or rank, but he looked military. He was holding a small notepad, and he was scribbling down a few notes.

  “Hello?”

  No answer from the man. I took a step towards him, but he only responded with a smile. It was annoying and condescending, and I hated how he refused to talk.

  “Talk to me!” I accompanied the order with a jab to his chest, but my finger went right through his body. Whoever he was, he wasn’t really there in the room with me. He seemed amused by the look of shock on my face, and he gestured towards the ceiling.

  Above me, securely fastened to the ceiling, was a small mechanism that was projecting his image in front of me. The image had an impressively high resolution, I couldn’t tell he really wasn’t there. When you live in a world where it’s not unheard of for heroes and villains to teleport from one place to another, that’s what I assumed had happened.

  “What is this? A hologram? Can you talk to me?”

  Only silence. I repeated my question, but he merely shook his head and tapped his ear.

  Great. Either he was unwilling to communicate with me, or there was an equipment malfunction. I screamed at my silent voyeur.

  “I want to see my boy!”

  The man flipped the page of a notebook he was holding, scribbled something new on the pages, and then held it up for me to see. It only had a few simple words.

  Is there a scar on the back of your neck?

  It was a strange question, and it instinctively made me feel my neck. That’s when I realized that ten inches of my long hair had been chopped off! My beautiful long hair had been sheared away, and there was a definite incision on the back of my neck. It was tender to the touch, and there was a swollen bump just barely visible under the surface. Putting any pressure on it actually brought my eyes to tears, and I had to take my fingers away.

  “What did you bastards do to me?”

  I expected some sort of threat from the holographic man, or at least some warning to keep calm. Instead, he looked almost ashamed of himself. He shook his head sympathetically, looked down and scribbled another note.

  These people don’t want to hurt you. Don’t mention me. Get ready to fight. I’ll be in touch.

  Then, he reached over and touched something on his end of the communication that I couldn’t see, and the hologram vanished. I was alone again, but only for a few seconds. Soon after, the steel door opened, and I took a nervous step back.

  Colonel Bridge was standing there to greet me. The last time I’d seen him, right before he drugged me, I’d kicked him in the jaw. I was hoping that he’d lost a tooth, but no such luck.

  “How’s your face, colonel?”

  He smirked at me, but was otherwise silent. It was the sort of smirk that suggested that he was going to find the punishment I was about to receive very satisfying. He stepped aside, and quietly gestured for me to walk forward.

  Beyond my holding cell was a maze of dark corridors and passageways. There were four soldiers flanking the exit, blocking escape to any of the hallways except the one directly ahead of me. Colonel Bridge walked forward, and the soldier closest to me nudged me ahead with a firm shove.

  They were big guys. Even though I’m on the tall side, each of these soldiers had a good two inches of height on me. If it came down to it, I was confident I could take them. I wouldn’t come out of it unscratched, though.

  Get ready to fight, the hologram had warned me. What was he talking about? And why didn’t they have me in restraints?

  We passed several doors as they escorted me through the hallways. I took note of the signs on the doors as we walked by, in case I found an opportunity to flee. There were the usual types of rooms that I expected to see; such as laundry, food ops and security. There were signs leading to more exotic designations, such as uniform maintenance, whole brain emulation facility, genome laboratory, the war room and the chronal dampening array. There was some mad scientist shit going on here.

  At the end of the corridor was a room marked simply as the gymnasium, and the soldiers walked me in.

  It was larger than I expected, with high ceilings and walls that looked like they could withstand the impact of a truck. There were stationary bicycles and punching bags in the corner, but there was more. The weight stations were installed with heavy steel that looked like you’d need machines with hydraulic arms to lift them. The treadmills had larger bodies that looked as if a car engine could be running it. They were connected with power cords that seemed designed to provide power to your average carnival ride.

  What else would I have expected from a gymnasium designed for super heroes?

  I had been marveling at the amazing equipment like a science nerd at a field trip to a research laboratory so much I didn’t realize the woman with the long hair was leaning against the wall. She was wearing a tan trench coat, eyeing me suspiciously, while inhaling deeply on a short cigar. It was the girl who had been there to comfort the Necromancer the other day. She looked no happier to see me now than she did then.

  “You,” the colonel said, directing his words to me. “Go stand in the center of the gymnasium.”

  There was only one way out of the room. The colonel and the woman in the trench coat and the fo
ur big boys in uniform were blocking the door. Even if I got past them, there might be an entire squadron of others between me and where the exit really was. Maybe even a few members of the Infinite League themselves were waiting for me, and I’m sure none of them would mind having an excuse to beat the hell out of me. I walked to the center of the gym and waited.

  “Cassiopeia, you’ve been asked not to smoke below level C,” the colonel told the woman.

  She didn’t reply, but she nodded and gently smashed the cigar against the wall she was leaning on. “How are we doing this? Short and sweet, or long and messy?”

  “Stand down, young lady,” the colonel warned her.

  “I’m not one of your grunts, colonel,” she told him, while keeping an unwavering glare at me. There was some barely restrained fury in her eyes. “You’re not my commanding officer.”

  “I’m the Director of the DSA,” he reminded her. “I’m pretty much the highest authority you have.”

  “This is a waste of time anyway,” she continued, bouncing on her feet and throwing a few air punches in my direction. “Why aren’t we doing something useful, like trying to find the escaped members of the Hate Brigade? Or maybe tracking down Ubaidullah Zahr?”

  “The police can handle the Hate Brigade. And for the last time, you are not cleared to take action against a foreign national who’s not even confirmed to be in the country. Even one as dangerous as Ubaidullah Zahr.”

  There was a hostile exchange of glances between Cassiopeia and the colonel, but it didn’t go anywhere further.

  Then, shit started to get real. The four soldiers that had walked out onto the floor, and they began to surround me. I stood perfectly still. They were all eyeing me coldly. I felt like a trap was about to be sprung, but they could have taken me out anytime. I didn’t get it. If they wanted to hurt me, they could have pumped gas into my cell.