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“Me? Oh, man,” Dekka said. “Great. I’m the Pied Piper now. Well, you’re here, and it looks like you’re bringing some serious capability. So welcome. I guess.”
Dekka extended a hand, and Francis shook it, abashed and with eyes downcast, like a personal assistant looking to be hired by a movie star.
Shade summarized. “Okay. I have speed and a fair bit of strength as well. Francis says she can basically go through solid objects, and given the fact she just walked through a locked door, I guess she can. Cruz can alter her appearance or disappear completely. Dekka can shred anything. Malik can send out a blast of unbearable pain. Armo can bring some serious brute force.” At this Armo flexed his biceps and made his pecs dance, which Cruz found ridiculous and yet did not hate watching. She had her Moleskine on her lap and idly sketched a bit of his shoulder.
“All of which is amazing,” Shade continued. “We have powers. Serious powers. But we still don’t have a plan.”
“I have an idea.” The words were out of Cruz’s mouth before she could stop them. Any other time the look of skepticism on Shade’s face would have wounded her, but Cruz understood. Understood and agreed that she was very unlikely, based on past experience, to have a useful suggestion.
“Go ahead,” Dekka said, leaning forward from the edge of her bed.
“It’s just something stupid,” Cruz said. “Because I was thinking about writing and stories and . . .”
“Spit it,” Dekka snapped. “Our resident geniuses and our experienced fighters aren’t coming up with anything.”
“Well . . . okay. It’s what Malik was saying, about this being entertainment. Like a TV show or a book. And I started thinking about it as if it was a story, you know? Like a comic book or a movie? Well, what do superheroes do? They save the day.”
“So, that’s it? That’s the plan? Save the day?” said Shade, looking almost pitying.
“No, no, I mean, yes, but . . .” Cruz felt a flush rising in her cheeks. “I just mean, it’s about when, isn’t it? Timing. Basically we have two bad guys—the government, and the Charmer and people like him, evil Rockborn. We all know we can’t let some sadistic creep with mind-control powers win. I mean, that’s the end of everything. Which leaves the government. In the end, we kind of need them to win, but not unless they decide they need us alive. So, we can’t ever help the Charmer, but we can maybe help the government. But only if they’re really desperate.”
“So . . .”
“So, if this is a story, an entertainment, when do the superheroes show up to save the day?”
Malik smiled at her. “When all hope is lost.”
“Cruz, that means standing by while people die,” Dekka said. “Doing nothing until we’re sure the time is right.”
“Yes,” Cruz said heavily. And as she said it she had an image in her mind of the shark within Shade Darby, suddenly migrating to take up residency within Cruz.
Two minutes earlier she’d been ogling Armo. Now she had blurted out a plan that might cost—very likely would cost—innocent lives.
Two of the people in the room understood clearly, down to the depths of their souls, the burden she had just placed on herself. Cruz had just come off the bench to join the game, opened her mouth and made herself complicit in whatever followed.
Shade and Dekka looked at her, mirror images of pity.
Interstice
FBI—Washington
URGENT
Note: The following transcript was prepared using a voice-to-text program.
Transcript of Dillon Poe Facebook video:
Hello, world, this is Dillon Po [sic] coming at you from beautiful downtown Las Vegas.
I’m going to give you an order and your [sic] going to follow it.
I command all who hear this to do two things.
First, you will forward this video by all social media to all of your contracts. [sic]
Second, once you have done that, you will come by the most direct means available, to Las Vegas. Once you are in Las Vegas you will defend the city against all government forces, killing any soldier or police officer you find, as well as any person helping them.
You will follow this order for twenty-four hours after arriving in Las Vegas. Then you will await further orders.
