Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,15
name. “Nevermore. Kindle. Protean. Radar. Lionheart.” He flashed her a grin. “And me, of course. I may be old, but I have my uses.”
“Got it,” Iridium said. What the Academy hadn’t drilled into her, Lester had. Her recall was perfect.
Iridium turned and ran for the prison control room.
The computer panel was so old, it took her a moment to figure out the protocols to open the high-security cells. Old computers were harder to hack, she supposed. That, or Corp was just cheap enough to think that a bunch of overmedicated, overweight former villains weren’t really a threat.
Why would they be, when the real psychopaths were wearing skinsuits in Corp colors?
Iridium was just about to send her command when cool steel kissed up against the base of her skull. Judging from the size and feel, it was a plasgun. A small one, but a bolt of hot plasma in your skull was all the same.
“Take your hands off that keyboard, young lady.” The voice was male, high and soft.
Iridium’s palms beaded with sweat as she called a strobe to her.
“And should you think you’re faster than I, let me tell you that I was a trained solider before retiring to work for Corp-Co. I do not fear death. I will pull this trigger as my dying reflex and you will be less half a head. That situation does not suit either of us, so please do not insult me with your light display.”
The gun didn’t leave her skin.
Iridium lowered her hands. “All right, you’ve got the drop on me. Can I at least see who I’m talking to?”
“Very well. Turn around.”
The gun lowered and Iridium moved, dropping and kicking back. She felt her boot impact with a kneecap, heard a grunt of pain, and threw a strobe without looking.
Carried back by the blast, the man slammed into the opposite wall, but he didn’t let go of his gun. He also shot at her, leaving a smoking hole in the control-room door.
“That was a warning shot.” He was bald, his face bright red, and he wore a nondescript gray suit and tie like a good lackey. His hands were massive—rough and scarred, hands made for beatings and breakings. “The next one will burn your heart out of your chest.”
Iridium flared her nostrils as the scent of the plasma dissipated. “So, what? You want to lock me up in here too? I’m not real scared of death, myself. I’ll burn you if you come any closer.”
He smiled, all teeth. “Young lady, if I wanted you incarcerated, you would be. I am not here to apprehend you.”
“Let me guess, then … dancing contest?”
He tucked the plasgun into his jacket and swiped a hand over his brow to clear the sweat. “My name is Gordon.”
“That’s nice. Germanic. You got a first name?”
“Just Gordon.” He twitched his cuffs and fixed his tie. “I am authorized to offer you a deal, Ms. Bradford.”
Iridium crossed her arms. “I’m listening.” But only because she thought he’d probably gun her down if she made a break.
“The city cannot sustain this bedlam,” he said. “The remaining Squadron are ineffective and too few, even if they could form a cohesive effort. We need goal-oriented men—and women. Those who are used to taking charge, who have the stomach for bloodshed, who can rip order from the screaming maw of Chaos.”
“You like monologues, don’t you?” Iridium said. “To blab or not to blab, that is the question …”
“Be quiet.” Gordon’s tone went from soft to slicing in an instant. “Your father and the five he mentioned—we will agree to their release.”
Iridium felt her eyebrows rise of their own accord. “If?”
“If,” Gordon said, rebuttoning his suit jacket over his gun, “they agree to bring New Chicago back under the control of Corp.”
Interlude
All Garth wants to do is get home. More accurately, he wants to get off the streets. There’s a tension in the air that makes the hair on his nape prickle. And his damned eyes are itching. Maybe it’s from all the residual energy. These past couple days, power’s been getting snapped about like wet towels at a sleepaway camp—everywhere you look, you see extrahumans practically crackling with the stuff.
And breaking stuff, no lie. This morning, the bodega on the corner got leveled by Bigfoot (or maybe by Red Sasquatch; Garth can never keep those two straight). He shakes his head. You think you’re going out for morning coffee, and instead you’re helping Jose dig out from all the rubble.