Emergence (15 page)

Not more than five blocks from where I’d trounced Stone, traffic came to a standstill, cars bumper-to-bumper. It was odd, though. There wasn’t a single horn being honked or curse word flying. There was only a dull murmur of amazement, and even the people on the sidewalks were getting into it. Fingers pointed into the distance.

I stared out the windshield to see what everyone was looking at. It took a moment before I noticed anything, but then there he was: Hero. Even without his costume, flying around in trousers and a short-sleeved henley, I recognized the guy; he brought on a shitload of mixed feelings in me, though I’d let go of my anger at him for, well, saving my life.

Hero hovered in place in the sky right above Buena Vista Park, staring down at something I couldn’t see, blocked from view by the buildings. As always, he looked confident. Though I suppose it’s hard
not
to look that way when your manifestation came with textbook super powers that made you invincible.

My stomach churned at the memory. He’d been a hero even then, but one of a different kind, not some media icon cloaked out in red tights and a white cape. He’d since ditched those threads, but I’d cursed him for years before I began to understand he’d made a split-second decision on impulse, and not based on some sadistic urge to see me suffer the loss of my family. I’d hated him a long time, even though it was just me being all emo and immature, and used to be the mere mention of Hero, which was a lot, put me in a downward spiral. He hadn’t been the one to kill my parents and sister, no matter how long I’d held it against him.

No. The shapeshifter murdered them, tearing into our plane. Noah…I mean,
Hero
, had done what he could as everything splintered around us, his powers manifesting in the same moment as mine. We were connected in a way no one else could ever be, the twin survivors of Quintara 311, the crash that ended both of our lives and forced us into new ones.

I’d followed his example unconsciously—at first—sneaking out to stop petty crimes and burn off some energy so I didn’t go mad thinking about it. He’d been all over the news after the crash, but later he explained how he’d kept me out of it, as far as the public was concerned. Noah knew what I was, but he never told anyone, and he’d struck some deal with the TCA to leave me alone; guess I had to give him props for that.

Bursts of energy streaked toward him, and he batted them aside with ease, like he always did, not so much as wavering from their impact. I held my breath as he swooped out of sight, a great
boom
rumbling after.

The fight was over before it had even begun, but it would take hours for traffic to resume its normal flow. I settled in to wait. It seemed Noah was good at disrupting lives.

#

Finally home, the news reports had set me to thinking.

In addition to national coverage of the death of the Red Wraith, local news reported on Noah putting another chimeric down, this one named Bolt. Turned out to be another kid, the police withholding most of the details because he was underage. Noah hadn’t been so circumspect, claiming Bolt had been maybe fifteen, `…barely into his balls,’ he’d said, and the news had left it in, which made me chuckle. I guess since Hero had ditched the Expandex and his TCA PR, he didn’t have to monitor every word out of his mouth, and the media was starved for any and all appearances.

So this Bolt, though. Just another kid from the neighborhood…just like Stone. Was it coincidence?

Noah didn’t seem to think so.

“The kid was under someone’s influence, so we might expect more of the same,” he told the reporter before leaping back into the sky, not bothering to elaborate. He rarely did.

I’d fallen asleep dwelling on that, and woke up with an idea.

THREE

The hours crept by, and I’d realized early on that my idea had been great in theory but pretty lousy in practice. I hated waiting.

I’d donned my costume, which I’ll admit was still a work in progress, and headed out for a tour of downtown Port Haven’s rooftops. The thin bulletproof vest I’d customized and wore over my outfit served to protect my vitals and disguise my shape a bit at the same time. Sadly, there was no way to hide the fact that I was a woman, my superhero ‘yoga pants’ were unforgiving, and way too revealing, but whatever; not to mention I was five-foot-nothing. Still, with the thin mask I’d devised to cover my whole face without smothering me, I’d managed to keep my identity a secret, which was the important part.

The skin-tight outfit didn’t do much to keep me cool in the California summer, though; I couldn’t afford Expandex or any other kind of nano-threads like most four-color types. I moved through the shadows of the buildings as I made a slow sweep across the areas where the last two chimeric incidents had taken place. Working on a hunch, an incident for each of the last two days, both involving kids, it seemed possible that something else was going on. I wanted to be there if I was right.

My enthusiasm waned at about the same time the afternoon rush hour traffic clogged Central Freeway. I was tired, hot, and cranky, and the only thing I’d managed to do was give myself a rash, my cheap-ass Spandex whistling as I moved.

“What the hell was I thinking?” I asked aloud, starting to go stir-crazy.

It wasn’t like I had super senses, or any way to pick out the sounds of a crime in progress, but I’d convinced myself that whatever was going to happen would be loud; that I’d hear it all the way across town. I groaned, berating myself for my stupidity, and launched myself across the space between buildings.

A gunshot rang out as soon as my feet touched the ground.

I spun about and ran to the ledge, staring down at 15th Street, heart racing. It sped up even faster when I saw where the shot had come from. An officer was on the ground, blackness pooling underneath him; a slip of a girl stood over him. Silvery tendrils sprouted from her back like great spider legs coming to razored points. Even from where I crouched, four stories up, I could see blood coating at least one of her appendages.

And like that, it was as if the flood gates of terror had opened.

The people on the street screamed and broke into panicked flights, flinging themselves away. Their movement seemed to spur her into action. Where she’d just hovered over the officer, watching him bleed out, she spun about and sprinted down the sidewalk, scattering people in her wake. An overfull backpack hung awkwardly over her shoulder, bouncing as she ran. The door to the rare coin and stamp shop hung broken on its hinges.

I was right!

I poured a little kinetic juice on and surged over to the next roof, and then the next, waiting until she was clear of people before I engaged her, but a flash of movement on a roof across the way drew me up short. My gaze settled on a tall man, watching the girl from his perch on the roof. There was no mistaking he was a chimeric. He wore a mask that had a white skull image printed across the face, standing out starkly against the black of the fabric. His black leather jacket was adorned in spikes and chains and blended in perfectly with his black pants and calf-high biker boots, also covered in small, chrome spikes. If I hadn’t been so surprised to see him there, I would have been impressed. It was a cool getup.

His gaze followed the girl below. There was something…
predatory
about him. Hunched over the ledged, he was oblivious to the world around him, focused solely on the action happening at street level. He stood there for a few moments, stiff and dialed in. Then he was on the move, running for the next roof. He slipped out of view behind the stairwell hut as I followed, hurtling across to the roof. I darted around the hut as soon as I touched down, but he was gone.

At the building’s edge, I glanced over and scanned the nearby rooftops. Nothing. The spider-leggy chimeric still fled below, gaining distance, her path clearing of pedestrians, but there was no sight of the skull mask man anywhere. He had vanished.

The first thing that popped to mind was that he was invisible, lying in wait somewhere, but he hadn’t even seen me, hadn’t known I was there. He’d been too focused on the girl. I stared after her. It was decision time. Stay and hunt the masked man down or follow her.

The girl won out.

She was fast, worming her way through the side streets and alleys, until she’d effectively slipped from the radar of the original scene and the buzz from the people who’d seen her pop the officer. Her extra
legs
were pulled tight against her body and looked like some weird decoration on her backpack.

Thinking herself clear of witnesses, she slowed and ducked down a narrow side street behind the rundown Mission Bowling Club off 17th, closed off by a fenced-in lot. She fumbled with a wire that released a section of the fence and slipped through, reconnecting the fence before heading past a long line of dumpsters and toward the nearest of the condemned buildings within the lot.

I watched her go inside and surveyed the property before following. There wasn’t any sign of anyone else about, but if what I suspected was true, there was a good chance she wouldn’t be alone when I found her. At the door, I tried my latest trick, triggering my power to move me an inch one way, then immediately back the other way to protect myself from a sneak attack. As long as I was in motion, I was safe, my power shielding me, but it was damn awkward. I’d never done it outside of my apartment, testing the theory. Guess I’d find out if it worked.

The door was unlocked, so I popped it open and zipped inside, concentrating on my defense. Turned out I hadn’t needed to. The girl stood a short distance into the empty room, her backpack at her feet, and there was no sign of anyone else around. A shocked expression marred her features. She wasn’t as young as the other two, but she sure wasn’t much older. Pretty, she had dark skin that complemented her wide brown eyes. A bit on the thin side, she was lithe, defined by wiry muscle that stood out against her regulation Spandex; we street-level chimerics seriously need a fashion union.

“Who the hell are you?” she shouted, her spare legs spreading out from behind her. They looked more ominous up close.

“Whiplash,” I answered, “and I’ve come to kick your ass.” As far as heroic introductions went, it was obvious I needed some practice. I blame comic books for taking all the good lines.

The girl laughed, her fear washed away by sly confidence at my ineptness. “I’m Serpentine, and that’s just not going to happen.”

“Serpentine.” A smile formed under my mask. “About damn time one of you guys had a cool name. You should really talk to those other losers about theirs. Must be a girl thing, picking great super names.”

“Right? Those boys. They need to…” she started, then went silent, realizing she’d connected herself to Stone and Bolt without meaning to. My grin widened. Now we were getting somewhere. She exhaled with a huff. “That wasn’t very nice.”

I shrugged. “Just confirming my suspicions. Girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“You’re
so
right,” she said, her smile coming back. “I like your style, Whiplash. Too bad we gotta do this.” That’s when she came at me.

I met her halfway.

Serpentine’s legs lashed out and struck me in the chest, silver thorns glistening on the tips like fangs, but my power shrugged them aside. Her eyes nearly burst from her face at seeing her first attack so easily deflected, but I didn’t give her time to think about it. I drove my fist into her gut, followed by an uppercut that rattled her jaw.

I knew my obsession with the UFC would pay off one day. Mind you, I watched it mostly to see half naked men wrestling around, but I’d picked up a few things here and there. It also helped that I didn’t feel a thing as long as my power was activated. I threw those punches as if I were throwing a baseball with reckless abandon, the impact little more than a tingling on my end.

Can’t say the same on poor Serpentine’s side.

She
whuffed
and nearly bent in half, gasping for breath. My second punch hit her. There was a sharp
clack
as her jaw slammed shut, and she stiffened, shooting upright and flying back several yards. She hit the ground, flopping on her back like a discarded ragdoll, shuddering and weeping.

“Come on now,” I said. “If you’re going to play in the Big Leagues, kid, you need to be tougher than that.”

Serpentine sniffed and rolled to her side. Her extra legs lay limp across her back and legs. I went over and pinned them to her with my own legs, straddling the girl. She flinched as I raised a fist. Fortunately, she had no clue how my power worked, not knowing I was vulnerable just sitting there like that.

“Got some questions and, sweet nickname or not, I will beat you blue if you don’t tell me what I wanna know.” I felt a little bad about threatening the kid—she was obviously a few years younger than me—but she rolled over without another punch thrown.

Didn’t know whether to be proud or disappointed.

FOUR

Serpentine didn’t know much of anything. Mr. Skull Mask’s identity remained a secret, and I had no clue if he was involved at all. Seemed she and the boys were all street kids who’d grown up around my stomping grounds, Santiago Square, Parkside, all inner city, and they manifested very recently. Their powers hadn’t done much for their character, sadly, but it seemed to have opened up opportunities to them that hadn’t been available before. Like felony robbery, which is what the government classified as any theft aided by chimeric abilities.

Stone and Bolt were looking at some serious time in the local DCD ‘care facility’ despite their ages; the organization didn’t much concern themselves with how old you were. They’d be isolated and locked down and likely either experimented on or trained to be operatives, maybe turned over to TCA. Either way, it wasn’t the brightest future.

Of course, their future hadn’t been all that bright to begin with, but someone had recently made things worse for them under the guise of selling them an opportunity. Though the only one that got away with it was Serpentine. Well, sort of. I’d called the cops after knocking her out. It would be hard to claim I played on the side of angels if I let her get away with it, regardless of her circumstances. She’d wounded an officer in her robbery—the news reported he wasn’t dead after all, thank goodness, and said he’d recover—but that was more than I could tolerate.