Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,34
else with her other hand between her legs.
Yeah, Jet thought. Absolutely nothing to the imagination. Ick.
She recognized the woman as Bombshell, a long-time rabid with no powers to speak of—a normal who got off on playing dress-up and wreaking a little havoc. Jet had tussled with Bombshell before. That fight had lasted a whopping two minutes. The woman was all mouth, no might, especially once she was disarmed. Then she just got weepy. Jet thought the act probably worked better on the male members of the Squadron. Then, thinking of Frostbite, she amended that to most male members.
Bombs in her belt, extra fuses in her boots, Jet recalled. And there were the metalique hair toys, with about a thousand times more oomph than the exploding snaps children loved to throw to the ground.
After far too many days of battling extrahumans who had been her colleagues, Jet was actually relieved to be confronting a normal wannabe supervillain. It would be quick, and she’d just call in the capture to Commissioner Wagner, and then it would be off to headquarters. She missed her bed, but since the Squadron had lost its collective mind, her Corp-sponsored apartment had been compromised.
That thought—the loss of a comfort as simple as sleeping in her own bed—suddenly enraged her. Channeling that anger, she rocketed straight toward Bombshell.
The woman was so fixated on the burning building that she didn’t notice Jet until it was too late: A Shadow band snaked around her torso and pulled tight, pinning her arms. Bombshell screeched, and the small lump dropped from her hand. But Jet had expected that; a cushion of gray matter was waiting, and the object landed on it with a soft plop.
Too easy. But then, Bombshell wasn’t too smart.
Jet landed in front of the so-called villain and looked up at her. Even without Bombshell’s stilettoed boots—Light, how did the woman walk without falling over?—she towered over Jet.
“Let me go!” the woman screeched.
“I don’t think so.” Jet retrieved the small item from the Shadow cushion. She would have recognized it as one of Bombshell’s calling cards, even without the cursive B, utterly gaudy in neon pink. “I didn’t take you for an Everyman hater, Bombshell.”
The wannabe villain scowled for a moment, then shrugged. “The money was good.”
Oh really? “Work for hire?” Jet said, arching a brow. “You’re branching out.”
“Got to pay the bills.”
“Next time, try a job at the Quick Fix. Who’s got you on the payroll?”
Bombshell shrugged again. “Haven’t met him face-to-face.”
“I’m not asking whether you’d date him. I want the name.”
The white-haired woman lifted her chin. “My memory’s sketchy. A couple hundred digichips might help me remember.”
Jet was too tired to play this game. She constricted the Shadow band, and Bombshell gasped, her breath puffing out in a cloud, her lips turning blue with cold.
“The name,” Jet repeated.
Bombshell looked down at her and snarled, “Get scorched. You’re not like the rest of the freaks. You’re still a good guy. You can’t do shit to me, and you know it.”
She was right. Damn it to Darkness.
Calling up her floater, Jet shoved Bombshell onto it, then stood next to her. “Maybe you’ll feel more talkative when Commissioner Wagner asks you.” Holding on to the Shadow band so her prisoner wouldn’t fall, Jet directed the floater up and into the sky.
Halfway to the station, Ops chimed in: “Babe, you’re not going to believe who I’ve got a fix on.”
Jet sighed. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a few years. She said, “Who?”
In front of her, Bombshell said, “Who what?”
Jet ignored her.
In her earpiece, Meteorite chuckled. “Iridium. Man, when it rains, it pours. You’ll never guess where I found her.”
There was no way Jet could take on another rabid now, not when a strong wind could topple her where she stood. And Light, this was Iri. She was probably falling over with laughter from the chaos she’d inadvertently caused when she’d broken into the Academy and taken down Ops … and fried the brainwashing signal that had turned the extrahumans into Corp’s puppets.
Well, it couldn’t hurt to check and see what Iri was up to. If the woman was looting, Jet would step in. For all she knew Callie was just getting a latte and enjoying the view of New Chicago burning.
“Where is she?” Jet asked.
CHAPTER 15
IRIDIUM
It was the most extraordinary thing I had ever seen. I now understand Einstein, Oppenheimer, Bell. I understand what it means to glimpse the face of God.