Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,70
trust these people? Half of them were reporting to Corp Executive Committee directly, reporting all our actions, our conversations. They weren’t real Runners, like Derek and I. They were fucking spies and you all know it.”
Steele looked shocked.
Iridium couldn’t help it; she laughed. “So the rose-colored optiframes come off at last. Yes, your beloved Corp-Co had its hooks deep in you, in more ways than one.”
“They wouldn’t,” Steele said, sounding hurt.
“They would.” Firebug took her hand. “We know that, Harrie. They would.”
“I only befriended Runners free of Corp meddling,” Taser said, looking at Steele. “I’ll get you good people. Scout’s honor.”
Steele sighed tiredly. “Fine. Do it.”
Firebug removed her hand. “You don’t get to decide for everyone, Harrie. Maybe I like fixing my own coffee.”
“Jet’s not here, and when Jet’s not here I’m team leader,” Steele said quietly, looking hard at Firebug, then at the others. “I’m making an executive decision. Anyone have a problem?”
Firebug huffed, her short, shocking orange hair puffing around her face. “No, no problem. That doesn’t change the fact we’re grossly outnumbered by rabids on the street. Or that regular people are suddenly turning into the Incredible Hulk with PMS.”
“Agreed,” Taser said. “Your first priority has got to be bringing in Martin Moore. Before he creates any more of these things.”
“We can bug Everyman,” Meteorite said, “since he’s their pet dog.”
“Not anymore,” Iridium said, shaking her head. “He bombed their headquarters. I’d say that’s a pretty clear I’m just not that into you message.” She relayed how the interrogation with Bombshell went, leaving out the part that she’d let the wannabe go hobbling home to momma.
“Great,” Frostbite muttered. “So we can’t go leaning on Everyman.”
“No big.” Iridium leaned her head back against the wall, the cool metal of the team cafe doing little to soothe her muddle of thoughts. “Moore is just the lunatic fringe. Rabids are the immediate threat. Let Squadron: India deal with Moore and his sewer mutants.”
Frostbite eyed her sharply. “Squadron: India is coming here?”
Fuck. She hadn’t meant to let that slip. She still hadn’t approached the others about Gordon, let alone about how she’d busted her father and five other villains out of Blackbird. If they found out now, there went all the goodwill she’d built up over the past two days, goodwill and trust she needed to get those same Corp hooks out of the Bradford family for good. Damn it, she had to pull it together. Iridium shrugged, making light of it. “That’s the rumor.”
Firebug blinked at her, disbelief etched on her face. “And where’d you hear that? The supervillain-talk-show broadcast?”
“I have my ear to the ground,” Iridium retorted. “I hear things.”
“Let it go,” Steele said, shooting her partner a warning glance. “We have another matter to discuss.”
Firebug glowered at Iridium, but she held her tongue. Iridium smiled sweetly. Lester said it confused people.
“Specifically, Doctor Hypnotic,” Steele said. “It will only be a matter of time before thousands are under his control. What’s our strategy?”
“Police,” said Meteorite. “Raid his lair and take him back to Blackbird.”
“Are you serious?” Iridium jerked up, feeling like someone was tugging her strings. “Human police? Like the humans Hypnotic is turning into zombies? Yeah, that’d work out great.”
Meteorite’s eyes frosted to gray. “You have a better idea?”
“I do,” Iridium said. “Kill him.”
Silence sat heavy for a moment. “Just like that,” Frostbite said. “Kill him, full stop?”
“It’s the only way to be sure,” Iridium said. “Because you can’t beat him, and sooner or later, Looptown is going to be another Siege of Manhattan. You can lose a thousand lives or one. Kill Hypnotic.”
“The Squadron doesn’t kill,” Steele said crisply.
Iridium fixed the larger woman with her gaze. “Right. I’d forgotten about that little rule.”
Jet wraps the grotesque in Shadow until the woman—if it is a woman—screams, then whimpers, then goes still. Leaching the warmth out of her deformed body. Leaching the life.
The Squadron did kill people. When Lynda Kidder had attacked Jet in the sewer, after Jet and Iridium had both gotten too close to Martin Moore’s disgusting experiment, Jet hadn’t even hesitated. She’d let the Shadow overwhelm Kidder, and almost herself as well.
The Squadron didn’t kill. Bullshit. The memory triggered gooseflesh up and down Iridium’s arms.
“Supposing we could,” Taser said, facing Iridium. He, at least, was being reasonable. “How would we get close enough?”
“Get our own Mind power to jam Hypnotic,” Iridium said. “Get close enough, and put two in his head.”
“Just like that,” Steele said. “I won’t listen to this.”