Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,62
you see? He’s too fucking strong.”
Her words hung in the air between them.
Jet knew that Meteorite was right. Hal was much too strong. But what other option was there?
“Hypnotic’s just the frosting on the shit cake.” Meteorite ticked off points on her fingers as she said, “We still have groups of former Squadron soldiers venting throughout New Chicago, not to mention the rest of the Americas. There are more citizen protests like what’s happening at City Hall, and even more zealous speeches from Everyman. Citywide curfew is in effect. Just to make it more fun, there are rumors of a mass breakout from Blackbird.”
Jet felt dizzy. “Please tell me that really is just a rumor.”
“We don’t know,” Meteorite said with a heavy sigh. “We can’t get a solid answer from Blackbird thanks to the guards striking, let alone the police. And from the little I’ve picked up, Lee is poised to label all extrahumans terrorists, so we’re not getting a lot of love from any of the brass.”
Terrorists. Light.
“To top it off, we still don’t have a beat on the missing Academy students or staff.”
A lump formed in Jet’s throat, and she swallowed thickly. The students had to be safe somewhere. Ops at the Academy might have been washed-up heroes, but most of them had still held on to their extrahuman abilities. What was more, they hadn’t worn the earpieces that had brainwashed the Squadron into being Corp yes men. They had to have led the kids to safety.
“At least it’s not all doom and gloom,” Meteorite said lightly. “Your best buddy’s been working with us on and off these past two days. She’s been a big help. So’s Taser.”
Bruce and Callie, hand in hand. How fitting. “Iri’s really one of the good guys?”
“For now. You know Iridium. With her, it’s always about her own interests first.”
“Indeed.” She remembered Iri telling her to drop her off in Wreck City, instead of going with her to confront Hypnotic. “Taser as well.”
Meteorite shook her head ruefully. “Don’t be too hard on him just because he fried your circuits by accident. We’re sort of screwed here, Jetster. Don’t go looking gift horses in the mouth.”
“I don’t plan on doing anything with Taser’s mouth,” Jet replied, her voice clipped. Her stomach ruined her indignation as it let out a woeful grumble.
“I’m sure Taser’s mouth is very disappointed. I’ll scare up some food for you. While you shower,” Meteorite added pointedly.
Jet glared at her. “Sheila …”
“Don’t you ‘Sheila’ me, Joan Greene. Get your ass into that shower.” Meteorite smiled sweetly. “And then I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden your skinsuit. Which, by the way, is now clean. Unlike you.”
Jet stared at the Ops controller long and hard. Finally, she said, “You’re incorrigible.”
“And allergic to dirt. Go get clean.” The smile melted off Meteorite’s face. “Because Jehovah knows, you’ll be getting dirty again.”
CHAPTER 28
IRIDIUM
These parents have no conception of what their children could become. This isn’t merely science … this is evolution.
—Matthew Icarus, undated research notes
Why, Iridium wondered, did packs of villains always travel in threes? A love of prime numbers? Or simply to annoy her? Iridium bet on the latter.
These three—Feedback, Blackwasp, and Duster—had to be the sorriest bunch of superpowered punks New Chicago had ever seen. All young, all barely out of the Academy, with probably three months of field training among them and a love of clashing colors on their skinsuits.
Still, they’d managed to take out an armored transport hover and tie up traffic for kilometers in both directions.
Iridium threw herself behind one of the hover’s tilithium doors as Feedback’s sonic scream ricocheted off the buildings all around. Glass rained down, and Feedback raised his hands like he was conducting opera.
Until ten thousand volts to the back of his neck laid him out flat. Taser shook his head, batting at his ears. “Damn it, that stings.”
“Your left!” Iridium said sharply, as a dirt crawler controlled by Duster reared out of the pavement. Taser dove left, and the crawler took out the front window of a 3-D rental shop.
That left just Blackwasp unaccounted for. Iridium spun in time to duck a slash from the toxic stingers in his forearms.
“There you are, kiddo,” she said. “My memory might be going, but haven’t I kicked your ass once before?”
“That was then,” Blackwasp panted. “This is now.”
“Oh, well.” Iridium called a strobe. “Two for two is better than one.” She threw the strobe into Blackwasp’s buggy face, and it left sunburn across his nose and cheeks.