The Rise of Renegade X (33 page)

“Ohhhh, no. I’m not going anywhere. You just said I was your sidekick.”

“No, I said I shouldn’t have said you
weren’t
. It’s a little different.”

“You called me Cosine.” She shakes her head at me, like she thinks I’m insane. “I’ve already saved your life once tonight. I’m not going to get caught, and even if I do, so what?”

“So what? He’s got Kat tied to a wall. He’s going to hurt her to get to me, and if he finds out I care about you, too? He’ll be all over that. You’ll be taking a huge risk, going out there to face him with me.”

“How am I supposed to be your sidekick if you worry about me all the time? We’re both going to get hurt in this business—we have to accept that. You have to trust me.”

“Do you trust
me?”

She conveniently finds a speck of dirt on her dart gun and shines it clean with the edge of her shirt, pretending she didn’t hear me. “I’m not going home, Renegade.”

“Fine. Stay and help me if you want; see if I care.”

The elevator dings and the doors finally open to the top floor. The elevator doesn’t go all the way to the roof—we’ll have to take the stairs from here.

“You know you’re walking into a trap, right?”

“Yep.” I hold my gun out in front of me as we leave the elevator, but the coast is clear.

“Just checking,” Sarah says.

W
e burst onto the roof, and I don’t look too far to the edge, afraid of getting dizzy and blowing this. Two superheroes stand guard at either end, and a third mans the camera, aimed at Pete. I point my gun at him, ready to fire, but I can’t. Pete’s standing right in front of Kat. There’s no way I can get him without getting her, too.

Sarah shoots her dart gun at Pete, but one of the guards zips in front of him at super speed, taking the blow. The superhero crumples to the floor.

“Grab her,” Pete says.

The other guard and the cameraman seize hold of Sarah as she takes aim again. They wrench the dart gun out of her hands and one of them breaks it in half. I’m guessing he has super strength, or that he works out a lot.

“Let them go, Pete.” I aim for his chest.

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Kat. “Go ahead,” he says, “kill us both. If that thing even works.”

“Of course it works!” Sarah shouts. She kicks the shins of one of her superhero captors, but he doesn’t notice.

I flash Pete a smile. “I’ll make you a onetime offer. Let them go and do whatever you want to me.”

“Is that right?” Pete pulls Sarah’s hypno device out of his pocket. It looks how I remember it—kind of like a tape recorder, papered in red and blue cellophane, with colored wires spliced into the side—only now with more duct tape. “Damien,” he says, speaking into the device. His voice gets tinny, echoing across the roof. And then I’m not sure if I really heard him or not, or if he said it directly into my brain. As I look around to see if anybody else heard him, a smile creeps over Pete’s face. He says four words, “I am your
master,”
and something snaps inside my head. I remember what Mom said about a trigger word.

“Give me the gun,” Pete says.

Sarah struggles against her captors, but it’s no use. “Damien, don’t do it!”

I march over to Pete against my will and put the gun in his hands. I can still think, and maybe talk, but I can’t stop myself from doing what Pete says. Mom wasn’t sure how her toxin would affect me. I must not be as susceptible to it as a normal person or a full-blooded superhero. Not a lot of good that does me. It means I’m aware that Pete’s in control of me, but I can’t do anything about it.

Pete turns the gun over, inspecting it. He raises his eyebrows at all the wires and buttons. “What’d you do, make this yourself?”

I can almost hear Sarah gritting her teeth.

Pete points it at me. He lowers it so it’s aimed at my foot—I guess he isn’t ready to kill me yet—and fires. Nothing happens.

Kat exhales in relief.

Pete tosses the gun down, calling it a piece of junk. Then he rubs his hands together. “It’s great, isn’t it? The city is falling into my hands, I’ve got the girl, and now my old buddy Damien has to do everything I say. What should we do to celebrate?”

“I should steal her away from you.”

Pete punches me in the mouth, knocking me to the floor. I taste blood and move to get up, but he says, “On your knees, boy,” and I have to listen.

The other superheroes on the roof don’t seem to have any freewill. They stand around until Pete tells them to do something, their eyes glassy.

Pete holds out a foot to me. “Kiss it, and bow to your master.”

I lean forward and put my mouth on his dirty shoe.

“With your tongue,” he adds.

I do what he says. It tastes like rubber and mud and it’s Pete’s
shoe
. I guess I should be grateful that’s all it is. And that he hasn’t stepped in anything gross lately.

“Get up.”

I stand. I catch a glimpse of how high up we are, how the whole city splays out below us, the ground so far down. I feel dizzy, like I’m going to fall, even though I’m not near the edge. I wince and shut my eyes. I wish I had something to hold on to.

Pete laughs. “That’s right, my boy’s afraid of heights.”

“It’s okay, Damien,” Kat says.

Pete turns and glares at her. He raises his hand like he’s going to hit her, then holds off. “You need to learn not to dirty your pretty mouth with his name. You’ll figure that out soon enough.”

“I wish I’d never met you,” she says.

“Be careful what you wish for. Remember I introduced you to him.” Pete snaps his fingers. He points to one of his superhero minions. “You. Back on the camera. It’s time for another show. Damien, go stand next to Kat.” He makes
L
shapes with his fingers and peers at us, like he’s going to take a picture.

I do what he says and move closer to her. “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper.

Kat nods, but she doesn’t look all that convinced. It might have something to do with her being tied up, and me being under mind control.

“Don’t talk to her,” Pete says. “I was going to do her and make you watch. But then I thought the only thing worse than making you watch me rough her up is if I make
you
do it.” He grabs a pocketknife out of his jeans and flips it open, locking it into place. He puts it in my hands. “A little foreplay. You can only use it on her.”

Pete’s so retarded sometimes, always giving me weapons. But he’s got me—I will my hands to turn the knife on him, and it’s like the signal doesn’t get through.

“Smile for the camera,” Pete says. “The whole town’s going to be watching.”

Me, a knife, and Kat. With Pete directing. Not a recipe for fun. My mind races. This whole situation seems hopeless. Pete’s holding all the cards, and what can I do?

I can talk, that’s what. As long as my mouth works, I’ve still got a weapon. My most dangerous one.

“You know, Pete,” I say, before he can tell me what to do with the knife, “this plan isn’t going to work.”

“Nice try, Damien.”

I shrug. “It’s flawed. You want to know why?”

I wait for Pete to take the bait. I’m patient. I don’t offer him the answer until he mulls it over, curiosity getting the better of him, and finally says, “Why’s that?”

A slow, wicked grin twists up my mouth. “Because, Pete, I hear you like torture. So I’m guessing you want me to torture Kat while you watch. But you know what, Pete?” I laugh. Pure and sweet maniacal laughter that I pull seemingly out of nowhere. It’s a strain to make it sound real, but it’s this or let Pete finish ordering me around. That’s not going to happen, not while I’m still breathing. “I like torture, too. Too bad we couldn’t have stayed friends.”

“Yeah,” Pete says, a scowl pulling on his face, “too bad.”

“Boy, are you dumb. You could have had me live out my worst fear, and instead you’re giving me kinky S and M.” I hold the knife toward Kat, pointing it at her stomach.

Pete gets all ruffled about it and glares at me. “Did I tell you to do that?”

“This is going to be great. And here I thought you were going to make me jump.”

“If I tell you to jump, boy, you ask me how high.”

“Off the building, I mean. That would have been …” I shudder just thinking about it. I don’t have to fake that part. I lower my voice a little and shoot Kat a wary look, like I don’t want her to hear, before turning to Pete and going, “I might have
cried
. On TV.”

“And you’d be dead,” Pete adds.

“I would,” I agree. “But you’re not going to do that to me. It’s one thing for you to torture people you don’t know because Taylor tells you to. Notice you’re not touching Kat—your first instinct is to make me do it. So, you know what you’re
not
going to do, Pete? You’re not going to kill me—you don’t have the guts.”

One side of Pete’s face twitches at the insult. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

Oh no, Pete. That’s what
you’re
about to do.

“Drop the knife,” he says.

It clatters on the ground.

“Get away from her.”

I take a step back.

He points to the ledge. “Get over there. Now.”

I do what he says. I want to close my eyes and block this out, but I can’t or I might fall. Last time I was here, I did. And if all goes well tonight, I will again.

When I can’t make myself walk any closer on two legs, I get down on my knees and crawl to the ledge.
This is for Kat. And Sarah
. “Please don’t do this!” I shout. “Don’t make me! We used to be friends, Pete, I—”

“Jump.”

“How high?”

“As high as you can.”

I get to my feet. The drop below is sickening, and I feel my stomach wanting to heave. I look over my shoulder. Sarah closes her eyes, tears on her cheeks. She’s mumbling something to herself. She looks like she’s praying, but knowing her, she’s probably reciting the periodic table of elements.

Kat’s eyes are on me, willing this all to stop. “Don’t do it,” she whispers.

“Aye, aye, mateys,” I say. “I guess it’s time to walk the plank.”

My knees are weak. Some part of me would give anything to not have to do this, even if it means not saving the day, anything so that I’m somewhere else, safe on the ground. But the compulsion to do what Pete says is stronger than my fear. Good—it’s what I’m counting on.

I tell myself everything’s going to be okay, as long as my heart doesn’t stop beating before I can carry out Pete’s order. Which it might do, it’s beating so fast.

I jump as high as I can and leap off the edge of the tallest building in Golden City. Kat screams what might be my name, or what might just be a cry of agony. It’s garbled and I’m too busy hurtling through the air to figure it out.

My mind races, swearing inwardly and panicking.
Fly!
Fly,
damn it!

Nothing happens. I’m plummeting, like I did the other day, like in my nightmares. Gordon said I had control, but I don’t. I will myself to use my power, to save myself, but it’s no good. I think through what Pete said, my blood pounding in my ears. He never said don’t save yourself, he never said don’t use your power, don’t fly. This is all
me
and my hang-ups and my fears.

Cold air whizzes by me, stinging my skin and making my eyes water.

I imagine what it’ll be like to hit the pavement—
splat!—
and then not breathe or think or feel anything anymore. And I
don’t want to die
.

I will myself to fly. Because making Pete tell me to jump off a building and then
not
flying and
not
saving Kat and Sarah and
not
stopping that bastard is really, really lame. If I can’t do this now, just this once, I don’t deserve a name like Renegade X.

The wind slows. The ground stops rushing toward me. I freeze in midair. I’m too afraid to move, in case I fall again. I half wish I’d let Gordon teach me this stuff, because maybe then I’d know what to do.

I get ahold of myself. My mouth tastes like metal, like blood, and I realize I bit the inside of my cheek. The wind carries the sharp scents of garbage and motor oil. I don’t look down. I think about floating up, and that’s what happens. My ascent feels slower than the elevator ride. I’m inching my way up, wishing I could go faster but not knowing how and too afraid of falling. I keep myself as calm as I can, telling myself moving is better than not moving. Saving Kat is better than not saving her.

But it’d be way better if I could get there sooner than later. I think about going faster, and this time I speed up.

I stay below the edge of the building when I get to the top. Everything now depends on Pete not knowing I’m back from the dead. I peer over the ledge. Kat’s crying silently and trying to look brave about my death. Pete’s standing in front of her, ranting to the camera about how he beat me, how he finally won.

Sarah’s glaring at Pete, her face streaked with tears. She keeps looking over the edge, like she knows my plan and is wondering what the hell happened to me. Or she’s looking for my body on the pavement.

I slip over to the side near Pete, keeping my hands on the ledge for support, even though I don’t need it. Physically, I mean. Mentally, every time I breathe I think I feel the air give way and I’m plummeting again to my doom.