Assault or Attrition (32 page)

Whether he was
doing it for my benefit or for his ever-expanding ego, I didn’t
care. Brynja and I desperately needed backup, and McGarrity was the
cavalry. “Thank you,” I said with a small nod.

“
And
,”
he added without missing a beat, “let’s face it, Mox – without me
you’re kinda fucked.”

I nodded again.
“I appreciate your candor.”

“Let me guess,”
Peyton interjected, “‘You’re a delicate tulip – stay behind and out
of danger’?”

Pulling Peyton
aside, I left Brynja and McGarrity to board the jet. “I was
going
to say that I need you to carry on here – just in case
something happens to me.”

“Carry on
what?”

“This,” I said,
motioning around me. “The Frost Corporation...or whatever you want
to re-name it.”

“You want me to
run your business?”

“No matter what
happens in Thunder Bay, it’s all yours now. Most of my assets will
be in your name by the end of the week.”

Peyton wrapped
her hands around the back of my neck and leaned in, resting her
forehead against mine. “This is
crazy
, Matty – what am I
going to do with billions of dollars?”

I replied with
a tiny smile. “What you
always
do: make a difference.”

Her tired eyes
fell shut. “I don’t want this much responsibility,” she
whispered.

“And I don’t
want to be this chiseled and handsome, but—”

“We all have
our crosses to bear,” she said with a weak smile.

I glanced over
Peyton’s shoulder and spotted McGarrity, standing at the top of the
jet’s entrance ramp, frantically waving me in.

“You’re the
one,” I said, brushing my lips against her cheek for what might
have been the last time.

“And you’re
late,” she replied. “We’ll finish this discussion when you get back
– now go save the day.”

The trip
from one side of the planet to the other took only seconds.
The
brilliant sunset over the South China Sea blinked away, replaced by
a dull grey sky that blanketed Western Ontario.

Teleporting was
not an exact science, according to Bethany – at least not yet. The
TT-100 got us in the general vicinity of our destination, but we’d
have to manually land the craft once we made our approach. The
early morning sunlight that filtered through dense clouds and
flurrying snow made visibility an issue, but fortunately we were
able to borrow an experienced pilot from Fortress Eighteen. He
agreed to stay aboard and hover back into the clouds, waiting until
we signaled for an extraction. It was essential for our jet to
avoid gunfire and superhuman entanglements. Without a functioning
aircraft we’d have no way to escape, and I had no intention of
making this a one-way trip.

We touched down
on the hospital’s rooftop hoverpad. The door slid open, and before
the ramp could extend into place I leapt into the knee-deep snow
and hurtled towards the staircase. I ran faster than I’d ever run
before. Brynja was at my side and McGarrity followed closely
behind, sword illuminated, screaming like a Viking prepared to sack
a village. Within moments we were in the hall, sprinting towards
Kenneth’s room. A janitor – the same one I passed three months ago
– mopped the floor in roughly the same location, this time with a
pair of oversized headphones engulfing his narrow head. He didn’t
even look up as we flew by.

We rounded the
corner and spotted Kenneth’s room. Without thinking I threw open
the door, and had stumbled several paces inside before I spotted
them: Valeriya flanked by a pair of her henchmen, with assault
rifles in-hand.

I didn’t have
time to react. The following events happened before I could draw a
single breath. Shots rang out and my eardrums nearly burst;
confined in a small room, the gunfire sounded like grenades going
off inside my skull. The ringing in my ears was shot through with a
frantic scream at my back. I spun to see McGarrity laying just
outside of the room; his reddened t-shirt obscured his wounds, and
a dark puddle expanded around him. Brynja was crouched at his side,
shaking his motionless body.

With a twitch
of her finger Valeriya invited Brynja to approach. She stood and
paced slowly into the room, leaving a trail of crimson footprints
behind.

“Close the
door,” Valeriya hissed.

Her henchmen
leveled their guns, pressing the stocks into their shoulders.

I froze. My
eyes flicked to Kenneth’s hospital bed, and thankfully he was still
breathing. The electronic device tethered to his comatose body was
blipping quietly, and the pulsing red line on the wall monitor
jumped with each heartbeat.

Valeriya,
angered by Brynja’s hesitation, snapped her finger towards the
entrance. “Close. The. Door.” She was biting off each word,
grinding them between her teeth.

Brynja raised
her hands and inched backwards, using a single digit to push the
door closed until it latched. The guards looked twitchy, so she was
careful not to make any sudden movements. As it swung shut I
spotted McGarrity in my peripheral vision, and hoped that
someone would tend to him – although after the sound of gunfire
erupted down the hallways I doubted that any staff remained in the
area. Either way, he wasn’t coming to our rescue.

“Think this
through,” I said softly. “This is over. At the fortress you had
immunity, but this is the real world. There’ll be
consequences.”

“But not for
you,” Valeriya scoffed. “For the God Slayer there is only
celebration and the spoils of victory.”

I shook my
head. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing since Arena Mode?
Partying like a rock star? That freak show ruined my life.”

“Ruined
your
life?” she shouted.

“Yes,” I fired
back. “Since last summer I barely sleep. And when I do I see Frost,
and your brother, and everyone else who died that day...I didn’t
want
any
of them to die, but there was no choice.”

“You always
have a choice, Matthew Moxon. That is what life is: a series of
choices. They are a painful necessity of being a human.”

“And of being a
superhuman. Your brother went into Arena Mode knowing he might not
come out.” I took a small step forward and Valeriya’s henchmen
readjusted their firearms, just enough to let me know they hadn’t
fallen asleep at their posts. I locked my feet in place, careful
not to move another muscle. “This is
over
,” I repeated.
“Walk away, and we’ll do the same.”

Valeriya shook
her head with disgust. “If the two of you think I have come this
far to let you walk away now, you do not understand my commitment.
I would rather die than watch either of you experience one more
second of happiness.”

Her eyes were
weary, but still burned with determination. I knew what she was
about to do; it was the mission Valeriya could have carried out
before we had arrived, but she’d patiently awaited the audience
that she needed for the show to fully resonate.

“Don’t...” was
the only word Brynja could produce, her eyes darting towards
Kenneth.

“You will have
your executions,” Valeriya promised, “but not yet. You need to feel
what I felt before leaving this world.” She marched to Kenneth’s
bedside and gathered his life support cables in her tiny hands. She
paused and we made eye contact; her gaze lingered for a just
moment, ensuring I knew exactly what was about to transpire – as if
there would be any doubt. With a downward jerk she ripped the cords
from his body.

She left only
his heart monitor attached. The bouncing red line on Kenneth’s wall
monitor persisted, gradually weakening with every beat. We had no
weapons, no back-up, and no plan...there was nothing left to do but
stand witness, watching our friend slowly expire.

I dropped to my
knees, and Brynja crouched at my side. The soldiers stepped forward
and pressed the barrels of their guns to our temples. I didn’t even
flinch. I was still fixated on the dying pulse, watching the blips
as they gradually came in longer intervals...and then, before long,
the remaining heartbeats faded away. The red line flattened, and a
continuous droning beep cut through the silence.

Watching
Kenneth’s chest rise and fall for the last time ripped out my
heart. Tears rolled down my face and I silently begged him for
forgiveness. It was my lie that put him here, and it was my fault
this was happening; I could only imagine the pain his family would
suffer knowing how he came to an end – it was almost too much to
process. My only solace was that he wanted this; when Brynja read
his thoughts, he asked for the plug to be pulled. I had no idea
what kind of pain he was enduring in his comatose state, but at
least it was over.

Valeriya smiled
as I broke down. It may have been her age, but her expression
didn’t seem vindictive or malicious – it was almost a smile of
relief. “This is it,” she said, kneeling at my side. “This is what
I have been waiting for. You believed you could save him, did you
not? That one day he would walk again, and live a normal life. Now,
you can die knowing you are a failure, and that the rest of your
loved ones will suffer the same fate.”

Police sirens
blared outside the hospital, followed by a hail of gunfire. The
authorities were no doubt responding to the shots inside the
building, and were being held at bay by the Red Army. Valeriya was
leaving nothing to chance – no one was getting inside.

The guards
ordered us to stand, and I glanced out the window. The parking lot
was overrun with Taktarov’s followers, and a lone, bullet-riddled
police car smoked in the distance.

“They await
your trial,” Valeriya said. “It is time to pay for your
transgressions. Both you and the ghost.”

I turned and
began trudging towards the door, slow and resigned. Brynja
followed, and remained silent; I expected her to say something
telepathically – to convey some sort of emotion, or possibly
formulate a plan for our escape. If she had an idea, she wasn’t
sharing it.

I locked my
feet for just a moment, contemplating if I’d give Valeriya and the
Red Army the satisfaction of a public execution. A gun barrel
jammed my spine, pushing me towards the exit.

“
Move
,”
the guard instructed in a thick Russian accent.

Screw it. If I
was going down, I’d go down swinging.

I spun and
knocked the barrel aside. I pressed my gauntlet into the henchman’s
throat, shouting for the stun gun to activate. He convulsed and
crumpled to the floor as electricity filled his body, dropping his
AK-47. I snatched it off the floor just as the stock of the second
guard’s rifle slammed into my temple. James Bond always made
disarming two people simultaneously look easy...I clearly hadn’t
earned my double-oh status.

I lost track of
the following few seconds. My next memory was the sight of the
hospital room’s fluorescent bulbs spinning overhead. The concussive
blow to my skull had blurred my vision and rattled my hearing. The
guard who floored me drifted into focus; he was struggling to
detain Brynja as he shouted instructions. His mouth was moving, but
he wasn’t producing any sound – his voice was being drowned out by
a piercing chime. The ringing in my ears became a pulse; a powerful
series of beeps that grew louder and closer together, like a
rapid-fire heartbeat that shook the room.

I felt a rush
of cold wind and the guard disappeared from behind Brynja, sailing
out of view. The other henchman followed. Then I was yanked to my
feet, stumbling to keep my rubbery legs beneath me, eyes transfixed
on the snow drifting into the room. The guards had been tossed
through the fourth-story window, and had landed somewhere in the
parking lot.

My hearing
snapped back like a volume knob being twisted from zero to ten. I
spun to see Valeriya crouched against the wall, screaming that this
was impossible, followed by something in Russian.

And standing
above her was Kenneth Livitski.

Kenneth was
wrapped in an electric blue body suit that glowed and pulsed with a
life all its own. It was his homemade Living Eye costume on
steroids: his gloves, boots, wrap-around mask, and the all-seeing
eye logo emblazoned on his chest all radiated with an energy source
that seemed otherworldly – if I’d seen it on film I would have
sworn it was a digital effect.

It wasn’t just
Kenneth’s new costume that was on steroids; his body had completely
transformed. His physique was no longer frail and drawn out from
months spent in a coma – he now was packed with lean muscle,
healthy and vibrant. His posture even suggested a newfound
confidence that I’d never seen in him before.

Kenneth
extended his hand towards Valeriya, and her body shot upright. A
glowing blue straightjacket materialized and latched around her,
buckling its straps into place. She struggled for a moment before
slipping and falling to her side with a painful thud.

As I regained
my footing I teetered and swayed, still woozy from the blow to my
head. Kenneth reached out and gripped my arm, steadying me. “You
should have listened,” he said bluntly, glancing down at the
discarded pile of cords. His eyes flicked towards Brynja. “You both
should have.”

The energy from
the sensors connected to Kenneth’s body were disrupting his
brainwaves, preventing him from escaping the coma – it was the only
explanation. Like the Cerebral Dampening Units that the government
used to limit superhuman abilities, the medical devices that kept
him alive were simultaneously sapping his powers. He’d been
imprisoned inside of his own mind with no way to escape.

“I—I didn’t
know
,” I stuttered. “I thought you wanted me to kill
you.”

“I’m
so
sorry,” Brynja added softly. “We both are.”