Black and White (14 page)

She couldn’t be sure, but something seemed to close off and darken behind the vigilante’s goggles. At the same time, the hairs on her neck went stiff and she tasted burned ozone on the back of her tongue.

“I’m not with Corp,” the vigilante grated.

“Obviously,” said Iridium. “If you were, you’d have learned how to dress yourself by now. And you wouldn’t go after a gang on their turf without four or five of your brightly dressed friends for backup.” Not that Corp cared about gangs, or anyone in Wreck City. Slumlords and petty crime didn’t make sound bites. It didn’t give action footage. If the Senator had a choice between saving a block of residents in Wreck City from sliding into the lake and rescuing
a kitten in a middle-class mom’s tree, the cat would win every time.

“Give me the cash,” the vigilante said again. Iridium raised a hand and summoned a strobe, the size of a spinning, glowing globe.

“I know you think this is the right thing, but you should ask Wreck City who really looks after them.” She launched the strobe, aiming directly for the vigilante’s face. He dove sideways, goggles irising shut, and rolled, coming up on one knee.

“I don’t think. I know. You’re Iridium.”

“You’re very athletic.”

“I’m Taser,” he grunted as Iridium snapped a kick at his head, only to have it bounce off his arm guard. “I gotta say, it’s a real pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” said Iridium, punching him in the mouth.

Taser doubled over with a grunt. “Christo! You take body enhancers?”

“Not me,” said Iridium. “I just enjoy my work.” She tried to knee Taser in the face while he was down, but he grabbed her foot and tossed her away. Iridium windmilled and hissed as her back impacted with the edge of the building’s steel utility box.

“A rabid,” Taser said. “At least, that’s what’s on your wanted holoposter Dead or alive.”

“Believe everything you read? I’m practically an honor scout.”

Taser swung at her, a sloppy outside punch, but fast, and he was a lot bigger than her. Iridium ducked and let her shoulder absorb the blow while she drove the heel of her boot into Taser’s knee.

He cursed and let go of her. “Yeah, you’re honorable enough to skim money off every gang in your grid and beat on Corp heroes for exercise.”

Iridium swatted away his next attempt at a grapple and
hit him twice, neck and face. “And what fine exercise it is. A lot better than what you’re dishing up.”

Taser choked. “Is that so?”

Iridium regained her stance, a little impressed. Normally, the blow would drop anyone this side of a comic-book superhuman, but Taser just swayed slightly and massaged the spot where she’d hit him.

“Would you have done any different?” Iridium asked. “Corp has no love for justice freaks who color outside the lines. I hear most of ’em don’t even make it to Blackbird.”

“No, darlin’, I surely wouldn’t have,” said Taser. He ducked Iridium’s next swing, dropped, and knocked her legs out from under her.

Iridium’s creative curse flew out along with her last breath as she hit the rooftop, holopapers flying away as Taser landed on top of her.

“I must be getting old,” said Iridium. “Either that, or you’re just a damn dirty fighter.”

“Probably the second one,” said Taser. “Now, I have no quarrel with you, but you keep dealing with gangs and getting in my way, and it’ll turn ugly real fast. Pack up and find another grid to flip your middle finger at Corp from.”

“Oh, I apologize,” Iridium said with a smile. “Were you under the impression that the getup and the gravelly voice make you intimidating?”

She shifted her weight to her shoulders and jerked her leg to knee Taser in the crotch, but he slammed his knee down on top of hers. Iridium heard a
pop
and felt the pain that went along with it.

“Christo-damned vigilante justice jacker son of a bitch!”

Taser laughed. “I heard you were a handful and figured you wouldn’t go easy, so I planned on asking you nicely.” He extended his free hand over her face and Iridium saw silver pads on the palm and each of his fingers. She watched in horror as electricity began to jump from pad to pad, tiny sparks at first, then electrical storms the size of
pennies, swelling until Taser’s entire hand was wreathed in blue crackling lines. “And then,” he said, “I planned on persuading you. You see …”

Taser faltered, and Iridium managed a rigid grin as she saw a sweat drop hit the inside of his goggles. Taser let go of her and jerked his mask up over his mouth with his free hand. Underneath, he was soaked and turning red. “What … what are you …” he gasped.

Iridium felt her hand heat slightly where it glowed white against Taser’s ceramic plate armor. “You fry me and I boil you, Taser. Poetic, after a fashion.”

After a long second of both of them not breathing, Taser let her go. Iridium scooted out from under him and sat up, massaging her knee.

“Well, hell,” said Taser, smacking the utility box and discharging a shower of sparks from his hand. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. How’d you do that?”

“Radiant light-heat,” said Iridium. “You?”

“I make electricity,” said Taser.

Iridium raised an eyebrow. “You
make
electricity? You use your body’s electrical charge and expel it? You’d be dead.”

“I pull in the ambient electrical charge in the atmosphere and store it until it gets released as one big old jolt,” said Taser. “You always this picky?”

“Just smart,” said Iridium. “Why’d you come to Wreck City?”

“I heard there were a lot of gangs running wild and a chance to do some good,” said Taser “So I moved in.”

“Cowcrap. You thought to muscle me out and take over Wreck City for your own little playground. Make everything shiny and new and everyone going to church on Sunday. You angling for a job with Corp?”

“I already told you,” he growled. “I don’t work for Corp.” He pulled his mask back down. “Anyway, I don’t see you doing anything of the sort.”

“That’s because I’m not stupid. So tell me, Taser … the first time Corp sends a
real
hero to tag and bag you, are you going to knuckle under and go along to prison, or Therapy? Because unlike our little dance number, some of those wastesacks
can
fight, and they love beating up on people they’re authorized to beat on. It’s cathartic, or something.”

Taser turned his head away. “I won’t let them take me.”

Iridium smiled and held out her hand. “Then I think we can work together.”

S
he dreaded this.

Standing outside his office for nearly two minutes, Jet forced herself to run through the new Focus sequence before she could summon the courage to announce her presence. Right out of Mindset Basics: deep breath, taking in the surroundings; hold it, absorbing the data and allowing the mind to make assessments based on initial impressions cross-referenced with knowledge and experience; exhale, reviewing possible next steps, textbook cases with examples. A second deep breath, picking a course of action; hold it, analyzing all probable outcomes; exhale, either selecting that action or rejecting it to review another. And again, until the next step has been decided. And then: Act.

Except, Jet realized, none of that really applied when it
came to meeting your assigned mentor. There was only one course of action, and that was to press the door chime and wait for admittance. And then …

Beneath her Second Year jumpsuit, she started to sweat. How bad could it really be? He was a proctor, for Jehovah’s sake. A certified hero. His deeds were recorded for history; his dedication to fighting crime in all its forms was nothing less than impressive. Feared by his enemies, respected by his allies. Praised by the civilians and admired (so she’d heard) by Corp.

Even so …

A bubbling unease filled her belly, and she squirmed as she stared at the closed door. She’d only seen him a handful of times during First Year, and other than that one time on her first day of Academy, she’d never made eye contact with him. He wore intimidation like a skinsuit, and his shadowed glower was a thing of nightmares. The man completely terrified her.

And yet something about him was … compelling.

Just thinking about that made her palms itch and her breath quicken. What did he look like beneath his cowl? She knew he had a strong chin—she’d seen that much—but when he smiled, did it reach his eyes? Hazel, she decided. His eyes were hazel. She’d always liked the color, ever shifting between green and brown, with flecks of blue. Tamed wildness. Safe chaos.

She felt her cheeks burn.
Jehovah, get a hold of yourself!

Let me hold you, Joannie.

She bit her lip, frantically thought:
Go away, Papa!

Let me hold you.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the voice that sounded so much like her father’s out of her head. The whispers had gotten worse in the past two months, ever since she’d started her Mental Preparedness units. Forcing herself to be aware of her own thoughts had made her realize just how much static was in her mind … and how, sometimes,
that static formed words and sentences and started to speak to her.

When she’d first heard the voice, she’d almost asked her instructor about it. There was nothing in the textbooks about hearing things—other than a footnote about the warning signs of schizophrenia—and no one else in the unit ever mentioned such a condition. Or symptom. Granted, none of them were Mental powers; those rare individuals were trained in a quarantined section of the Academy. So Jet had little choice but to decide that the voice she heard had to do with being a Shadow power.

And everyone knew how that would go. Eventually.

Outside of her new mentor’s office door, she swallowed thickly.
I’m not crazy. Not yet, anyway.

Let me hold you, Joannie …

Shut up!

Hold you hold you
hold you squeeze you tuck you in at
—

“Jet?”

Her eyes flew open and she gasped aloud. That hadn’t been Papa’s voice. That was something darker, colder.

“Jet!”

Something much scarier than her father ever had been.

“Jet. Snap out of it, girl!”

A flash of white, like a star shattering the darkness. The voice receded until it was an ugly memory, already fading to the stuff of nightmares.

Blinking, Jet realized she was crouching on the floor, her back against the wall, her cheek stinging … and Night was staring into her face, his hands firmly on her shoulders.

“Jet. Do you hear me?”

She squeaked out, “Yes, sir.”

He gazed at her,
through
her, and Jet dared to meet that gaze.
Hazel
, she thought, her mind locking on to those features and blocking out the hints of dark whispers. Definitely hazel. Not that she could see his eyes, but still …

Night nodded, then dropped his hands quickly, as if touching her had burned his hands right through his gloves. Standing straight, he said, “Good. Come inside. You’re late for our one o’clock.” Without another word, he walked into his office, his blacker-than-black cape billowing behind him.

Biting her lip, Jet followed. She jumped when the door slid shut behind her.

His office was stark to the point of being spartan. Other than his desk, his laptop computer and two chairs, there was nothing—just steel walls, a steel ceiling, and a plain dark carpet on the floor. No las-art or paintings hung on the walls; no holos decorated his desk. Just the standard Academy pledges, lased onto the wall:
DUTY FIRST; PROTECT THE WEAK; PROFESSIONAL, POLITE, POWERFUL
. He gave away nothing of himself here.

Jet nodded to herself; she approved. Showing personality also showed weakness. And Night was many things, but weak was not one of them.

“Sit.”

His tone brooked no argument. Her rear hit the seat in record time.

Night tapped on his keypad, then grunted at the computer screen. “Excellent grades.”

She brightened.

“For regular school.” Night snorted. “Figures. Time to get you moved into something where you can actually use your brain.”

Stung, she said, “I
do
use my brain. I’m a straight-A student. I’ve read all my textbooks already, have done all my assignments for the year.”

“There’s a world of difference between repeating information and actually having to think things through.” He glanced at her. “Are you a parrot?”

She swallowed, stared down at her boots. “No, sir.”

“You sure? You don’t want a cracker?”

A whisper: “No, sir.”

“Then learn to say ‘thank you’ when someone does you a favor. I won’t have you wasted, little Shadow. We have to keep that mind of yours challenged.” He paused, let the silence grow thick before he added, “You know what happens when your mind is too quiet, don’t you?”