Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,58
Lester finally snapped. Medical wouldn’t allow him to be in the room when the baby was born. Vixen might lash out with her powers, and the Hero of New Chicago couldn’t afford a crushed rib cage because his wife forgot her Lamaze breathing.
Lester thought that was bollocks, and he’d said so, but Valerie had ordered him out before he got suspended.
“I should be there,” Lester muttered, cracking his knuckles like rifle shots, pop-pop-pop.
“There are procedures,” Night said, standing stock-still now. Well, looming was better than pacing.
“I’m glad it’s in place,” George said. “I don’t think I could handle it. All of that screaming.”
“I’m so glad I got shoved out here with the Nancy Brigade,” Lester muttered, putting his head in his hands. Honestly, between Night’s line-by-line reading of procedure and George practically taking up pom-poms for Corp at every opportunity, it was a wonder he hadn’t gone rabid.
“Childbirth isn’t something you need taking your head out of the game,” Night quoted at him. “It’s for the women to worry about.”
“Keeps one-half of the couple sharp while the other’s indisposed,” George agreed.
Just as Lester was about to either scream or strobe the living daylights out of something, a nurse in a Corp-branded white uniform came into the waiting room.
“Luster?”
He snapped up, faster than Speed Demon. “Is it … is she … is Valerie …”
“Vixen is resting, sir.” The nurse took in his haggard countenance and her face softened. “Why don’t you come with me? The nursery is just down here.”
She led Lester past a series of delivery rooms, doors all shut and locked. The nursery was a sterile place, cots with blue or pink blankets holding the only life. Only three babies were in residence. Only one blanket was pink.
“Congratulations, Luster,” said the nurse, leading him to the cot. “This is your baby girl.”
Lester reached out, more carefully than he’d done anything in his life, and took the small body into his hands. The baby opened her eyes. They were bright ocean blue, paler around the edges, hinting they’d fade to something closer to his own gray.
“She’s … mine,” he said.
The nurse touched his arm. “I’m only supposed to give you five minutes, but you stay as long as you like. You’re the Hero of New Chicago, after all.”
For the first time in nearly a year, Lester was grateful to the damned sponsorship. He curled his daughter in the crook of his elbow, like he’d seen his mother do to his younger brothers. Before she’d passed, of course. After, the only touch in the Bradford flat was fist to face and boot to gut.
“Hello, Calista,” he said.
The baby stared at him. She blinked, once.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said. “I had a shite father, and I’ve no experience myself, but I’ll do my best for you.” He walked, because his mother’d told him babies liked to move, slow careful steps around the near-empty nursery. “I’d do anything for you, girl. You’re mine.”
Straighten up, fly right, wear the bloody earpiece. He’d do it all with a song for his family. For the first time in … well, ever, if he were being honest, Lester didn’t chafe at the thought of Corp and sponsorships. He had something else now, something that was only his. A wife and a daughter.
A family.
Lester felt a small ragged hole inside him close. For once in his life, he was something near to complete.
CHAPTER 26
NIGHT
Hypnotic no longer salvageable. Extremely disappointed. Will begin decommission paperwork. Once approved, he’ll go to Therapy.
—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #120
Night’s footfalls echoed as he walked down the hallway of the Mental wing, sequestered deep within the Academy. He pointedly ignored the sounds from behind the tilithium-reinforced doors of individual cells. It was easy; here, the extrahumans’ Mental powers had been all but negated thanks to drugs, and Night had survived his entire life by shutting out the voices he didn’t want to hear.
He approached room 6002 and tapped in the code he’d been given by the Containment captain outside the wing. The door slid open, and he marched inside, his black cape billowing almost regally as he entered.
Doctor Hypnotic sat in the corner, his legs crossed and his arms bound mercilessly in a straitjacket. His dark hair hung in greasy strands over his eyes, and his jaw was covered by an uneven beard. He didn’t look up as Night walked inside the cell—he’d just been medicated, Containment had told Night, which was the only reason that he’d been allowed to