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“The clones can split as well?” Abraham asked.
“They aren’t really clones,” Tia said. I heard papers shuffling on her line as she looked through my notes. “They’re all versions of him, but there’s no ‘prime’ individual. David, are you sure about this information?”
“Most of my information is partially hearsay,” I admitted. “I’ve tried to be certain where I can, but anything I write should be at least a little suspect.”
“Well, it says here that the clones are all connected. If one is killed, the others will know it. They have to recombine to gain one another’s memories, though, so that’s something. And what’s this? The more copies he makes …”
“The dumber they all get,” I finished, remembering now. “When he’s one individual, he’s pretty smart, but each clone he adds brings down the IQ of all of them.”
“Sounds like a weakness,” Abraham said over the line.
“He also hates music,” I said. “Just after becoming an Epic, he went around destroying the music departments of stores. He’s known to immediately kill anyone he sees walking around wearing headphones or earbuds.”
“Another potential weakness?” Abraham said over the line.
“Yeah,” I said, “but even if one of those works, we still have to get each and every copy. That’s the big problem. Even if we manage to kill every Mitosis we can find, he’s bound to have a few versions of himself scattered out there, in hiding.”
“Sparks,” Tia said. “Like rats on a ship.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Or glitter in soup.”
Tia and Abraham fell silent.
“Have you ever tried to get all of the glitter out of your soup?” I demanded. “It’s really, really hard.”
“Why would there be glitter in my soup in the first place?” Abraham asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe the other boys dumped it in there. Does it matter? Look, Tia, is there anything else in the notes?”
“That’s all you have,” Tia said. “I’ll contact the other lorists and see if anyone has anything more. David, continue observation. Abraham, make your way back to the government offices and quietly put them on lockdown. Get the mayor and her cabinet into the safe cells.”
“You going to call Prof?” I asked softly.
“I’ll let him know,” she replied, “but he’s hours away, even if we send a copter for him. David. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“When have I done anything stupid?” I demanded.
The other two grew silent again.
“Just try to curb your natural eagerness,” Tia said. “At least until we have a plan.”
A plan. The Reckoners loved to plan. They’d spend months setting up the perfect trap for an Epic. It had worked just fine when they’d been a shadowy force of aggressors, striking, then fading away.
But that wasn’t the case anymore. We had something we had to defend now.
“Tia,” I said, “we might not have time for that. Mitosis is here today; we can’t spend months deciding how to bring him down.”
“Jon isn’t near,” Tia said. “That means no jackets, no tensors, no harmsway.”
That was the truth. Prof’s Epic powers were the source of those abilities, which had saved my life many times in the past. But if he got too far away, the powers stopped working for those he’d gifted them to.
“Maybe he won’t attack,” Abraham said, puffing slightly as he spoke into the line. He was probably jogging as he made for the government building. “He could just be scouting. Or perhaps he is not antagonistic. It is possible that an Epic merely wants a nice place to live and will not cause problems.”
“He’s been using his powers,” I said. “You know what that means.”
We all did, now. Prof and Megan had proven it. If Epics used their powers, it corrupted them. The only reason Prof and Edmund didn’t go evil was because they didn’t use their powers directly. Giving them away filtered the ability somehow, purified it. At least, that was what we thought.
“Well,” Abraham said, “maybe—”
“Wait,” I said.
Down the way, Mitosis strode out onto the steel street, then reached back to take out a handgun he’d had tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Large-caliber magnum—far from the best of guns. It was a weapon for someone who had seen too many old movies about cops with big egos. It could still kill, of course. A magnum could do to a person’s head what a street could do to a watermelon dropped from a helicopter. My breath caught.
“I’m here,” Mitosis shouted, “for the one they call Steelslayer, the child who supposedly killed Steelheart. For every five minutes it takes him to reveal himself, I will execute a member of this population.”
3
“Well,” Abraham said over the line, “guess that answers that.”
“His clones are saying it all over the city,” Tia said. “The same words from all of them.” I cursed, ducking back into my alley, gripping my rifle tight and sweating.
Me. He’d come for me.
All my life, I’d been nobody. I didn’t mind that. I’d worked hard, actually, to be precisely mediocre in all my classes. I’d joined the Reckoners in part because nobody knew who they were. I didn’t want fame. I wanted revenge against the Epics. The more of them dead, the better. Sweat trickled down the sides of my face.
“One minute has passed!” Mitosis yelled. “Where are you? I would see you with my own eyes, Steelslayer.”
“Damn,” Tia said in my ear. “Don’t panic, David. Music … music … There has to be a clue to his weakness here. What was his band again?”
“Weaponized Cupcake,” I said.
“Charming,” Tia said. “Their music should be on the lore archive; we’ve got copies of most everything in the Library of Congress.”
“Two minutes!” Mitosis shouted. “Your people run from me, Steelslayer, but I am like God himself. I am everywhere. Do not think I won’t be able to find someone to kill.”
Images flashed in my mind. A busy bank lobby. Bones falling to the ground. A woman clutching a baby. I hadn’t been able to do anything back then.
“This is what we get,” Abraham said, “for coming out into the open. It is why Jon always wanted to remain hidden.”
“We can’t stand for something if we only move in shadows, Abraham,” I said.
“Three minutes!” Mitosis shouted. “I know you have this city under surveillance. I know you can hear me.”
“David …” Tia said.
“It appears you are a coward!” Mitosis said. “Perhaps if I shoot someone, you—”
I stepped out, lined up a shot, and delivered a bullet into Mitosis’s forehead.
Tia sighed. “I’ve got reports of at least thirty-seven distinct copies of him yelling in the city. What good does it do to kill one of them?”
“Yes,” Abraham said, “and now he knows where you are.”
“I’m counting on it,” I said, dashing away. “Tia?”
“Sparks,” she said. “I’m pulling up camera feeds all over the city. David, they’re all running for you. Dozens of them.”
“Good,” I said. “As long as they’re chasing me, they aren’t shooting anyone else.”
“You can’t fight them all, you slontze,” Tia said.
“Don’t intend to,” I said, grunting as I turned a corner. “You’re going to work out his weakness and figure out how to beat him, Tia. I’m just going to distract him.”
“I’ve arrived,” Abraham said. “They’re already on alert at the government office. I’ll get the mayor and council to safety. But if I might suggest, this is probably a good time to activate the emergency message system.”
“Yeah,” Tia said, “on it.”
The mobiles of everyone in the city were connected, and Tia could dial them all up collectively to send instructions—in this case, an order to empty the streets and get indoors.
I dodged around another corner and came almost face to face with one of Mitos
is’s clones. We surprised each other. He got his gun out first and fired, a deafening crack, like he was shooting a sparking cannon.
He also missed me. He wasn’t even close. Big handguns look impressive, and they have excellent knockdown force. Assuming you can hit your target.
