Killing Capes (Book 3): The End Read online

  Molly rose from the couch as well, scampering over to Dwight. The auburn puffball sniffed at his pants furiously, attempting to identify the various odd smells fixed into the material. As Dwight reached down to pet the tiny creature, she jumped away. The two stared at each other for several seconds before she ran back to his former roommate. Dwight couldn’t find a single word to say.

  Ian broke the silence, “Well, welcome to our new place!” he announced excitedly. It wasn’t until he saw Glitch stroll up behind Ian and throw her arms around him that Dwight realized “our” didn’t include him. She planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “Hey, that’s great. Looks amazing,” Dwight said sheepishly.

  The three stood there awkwardly while Molly resumed her position on the sofa. She scratched at something behind her ears before curling into a ball, ignoring the humans and cyborg in the room.

  “Come on,” Glitch interjected, “You can fill us in on where you’ve been.”

  She led them to the kitchen, grabbing water for their guest while Dwight told them of the other worlds. He brought up the other versions of himself he’d met, his attempted training with the mages of the Enclave, and the battle with their mortal enemy. His imprisonment, however, was a section that he felt acceptable to leave out. When he finally got to the discovery of the other Referee’s archive, Ian’s expression morphed from one of excitement to horror.

  “We have to tell the Guild,” he concluded.

  Both Dwight and Glitch sighed, “They are the Guild,” she reminded him, “What about other teams, other cities?”

  Dwight put his hands behind his head, leaning back in his seat, “I could try getting back in touch with Adams, but he’s probably still pissed about me dumping him naked in Sierra Grande. There’s no guarantee anyone in Central or Eastholme would be listening if we called for help. We’d just be giving ourselves away to Counsel.”

  “Probably best not to tip off the universe-roaming individual apocalypse that we’re on to it,” Glitch added snidely.

  Ian started pulling at his sweater, a nervous tick Dwight had picked up on years ago, “We can’t do this. This is too much.”

  Dwight cursed himself. He should have known that Ian wouldn’t be able to handle the severity of their predicament. “Don’t worry, I’ve got people already looking into this,” he lied.

  “I’ll do some legwork, too,” Glitch insisted, stretching her robotic arms.

  Ian rushed to her side, putting his hands on her shoulders, “No, love. This is too much even for you.”

  Dwight had seen this conversation before, but the last time he’d heard it, he’d been in Ian’s shoes. He knew how this always ended.

  For Glitch, this must have been a new experience. “I’m going to fight, Ian. I’m going to do my job, with the Guild or not.” Her voice was resolute.

  Dwight thought quickly, trying to defuse the domestic dispute, “Okay, quick side question before I go: when the hell did Bernard, of all people, get added to your game?”

  Almost immediately, Ian forgot his previous train of thought, “Your old partner has become quite famous since you went away. He’s the hot vigilante in town. The developers even got him in to do some motion capture.”

  Dwight was dumbstruck, “You’re fucking joking.”

  “Nope,” Glitch commented, “The Guild has orders out for his capture, but all they keep getting back are B-ranks with broken bones and missing teeth. Based on the interviews he keeps giving, he seems to be having the time of his life out there.”

  Feeling more defeated than ever, Dwight got up from his chair, “I think I need to get some sleep.” Even as he said it, he knew he had no reasonable place to do so.

  “Are you sure?” Ian stepped away, returning with a cardboard box in his arms. “You’re welcome to stay the night here.”

  He waved his mechanical hand, “No, I’ve got a place. I’ll be fine.” He took the box, examining its contents.

  “This was all the stuff that the storage place said we couldn’t leave there,” Ian clarified, “All your other things are there; I put the key in the box. I’ll text you the address.”

  They walked for the door. As Dwight left, Ian put his arm around Glitch’s shoulders and closed it behind him. As he rounded the corner, he spotted the security guard waiting by the elevator bank. “I’m not going to steal anything,” he remarked aloud.

  The guard eyed the cardboard box under his metallic arm wordlessly.

  “This is my crap! You can ask the happy couple.” He felt a meltdown coming on, when an image forced itself into his head. The soft green grass and artificial starry night sky surrounding Lia’s sanctuary filled his mind. The words, “Door’s unlocked,” followed. He could have cried.

  Without another word, he haughtily stepped past the guard and entered the elevator. The man followed him in, but there was no exchange between the two passengers. Dwight dug furtively through the box, finding a few t-shirts, his handgun, and a small plastic box that rattled as his hand moved around it. Confusingly, his fingers found the grip of a second pistol. He pulled it loose of the bundles of cloth, trying to keep it hidden from the zealous watchman.

  Examining the weapon, he suddenly remembered the Killstreak job. Somehow, the line-launcher had managed to make it back to the apartment. He reburied it underneath his old shirts.

  He left the building, the guard following him all the way out, only stopping when near the doorman. Casually, Dwight threw up his prosthetic hand to flip off the pair as he began the long journey back to the docks. The trip took him the better part of an hour. Without the help of the city buses – or what he truly longed for, flight – the night jog through his old neighborhood left him even more exhausted and cold.

  As promised, the door leading into Lia’s secret dwelling was unlocked. He stepped through the entrance and was instantly met with a blast of warm air. The conditions inside the false landscape perfectly mimicked a summer evening. The stars above glittered magnificently as a simulated breeze rustled the leaves of the lone tree. Dwight stood for a time with his eyes closed, shaking off the chill of the true weather outside.

  “Upstairs. First door on the right,” echoed in his thoughts.

  He followed the stone path up to the country cottage. The front hall smelled faintly of that evening’s meal, something rich and spicy. For now, he was too tired to even eat, despite his stomach’s angry protests.

  Kicking off his boots, he trudged up the stairs to the closed door he’d been directed to. As he touched the knob, he briefly wondered if Lia would be waiting on the other side of it. Her voice, “We’ll talk tomorrow,” filled his thoughts.

  Confident now, he opened the door to find her guest room waiting for him. The bed, piled high with blankets, was all too inviting as he fell face-first into it. He was asleep before the door closed.

  FOUR

  It was midafternoon before he woke. The combination of interdimensional travel, nanoviral infection, and Bernard’s serum had pushed his body beyond exhaustion. He awoke to the artificial sunlight pouring through the country windows, flooding the room with warmth. Looking to the mirror across the room, he saw the note he’d missed last night before passing out.

  “Dwight,” he read in Lia’s wavy handwriting, “There’s a change of clothes for you in the top drawer of the dresser. Please put your current stuff in the trash and I’ll handle it.”

  Opening the drawer, he found a pair of worn jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and sunglasses. He changed quickly, doing as she’d instructed to put his ruined attire in the trash bag beside the door. He left the handgun in the box, but found a place for the line pistol in his jacket. Checking the plastic box, he smiled as he removed its contents and placed them in another pocket.

  Heading downstairs, he could hear the sounds of a television on in the living room. Lia called down the hallway, “Come on, sleepyhead; I don’t have all day.”

  Following the voice to its source, he found Lia standing in the center of the room at
op a clear plastic sheet. Her smooth head reflected the afternoon light. The black tee and combat boots conflicted with the rustic atmosphere of the rest of the house. A single folding chair sat beside her.

  Dwight pondered the meaning of the scene, “If you were going to murder me, I appreciate that you let me get a change of clothes and a good night of sleep first. Can I have a drink or two before my grisly demise?”

  “Sit down,” she commanded. She began fumbling with a set of scissors and blades on a nearby end table.

  He did as instructed, unsure of what to expect next. She breathed deeply. He felt her reach psychically past him, out beyond the room. “Stay still,” she said softly, “I’m passing a memory of how you usually keep your hair through one of the most expensive stylists in the city and feeding back the movements she would use if you were in her seat.” She began delicately working her hand through his hair, pushing water between the strands as she sprayed him with a bottle.

  It took him a moment to process Lia’s explanation. “So what is she actually doing right now?” he asked.

  She continued working with the scissors, “Completely zoned out on her sofa; she’ll come to when I’m done borrowing her mind. No different than watching an hour of daytime TV.”

  He felt flattered by the gesture, “You prepared all this for me?”

  “Sure. Since the limiter came off, I don’t know what it is, but I can’t help reading you. Your time yesterday nearly had me in tears.” She finished with the scissors, taking up a lathering brush and applying the foam to his chin. When finished, she drew a straight razor from a leather case. “Hold really still. I may be channeling the skills of a six-figure professional, but this still scares the shit out of me.”

  When she finished, she held a mirror up for Dwight. The man in the mirror looked nothing like the one who had nearly broken down leaving the high-rise last night. “Thank you,” was all he could think to say.

  She smiled, “If you’re going to save the world, you don’t have to do it looking like a slob. Or alone,” she added. “Welcome home.”

  He left Lia to whatever it was that an all-powerful psychic did with her afternoons. She gave him an envelope as he left the house. As he walked down the path to the sanctuary’s exit, he checked its contents: several hundred dollars in large bills, and a note reminding him that he’d need to pay it back. Instead of the bus, he headed straight for the subway that would take him to the only place on his mind: The Welcome.

  Exiting the station, he found the notorious diner in the exact same state he had left it in. Its neon marquee promised a quiet place to plan along with a chance of foodborne illness. He took a seat at his usual booth, the same waitress as always bringing him a menu and coffee without so much as a comment on his recent absence. No sooner had his meal arrived than Glitch threw herself down into the bench across from him. He ignored the cyborg’s attempt at a surprise entrance, his attention fixed on his overflowing plate.

  “Well, don’t you clean up nice,” she said, crossing her arms over her track suit and leaning back against the padded seat.

  Dwight kept eating, silent to the sarcastic jab.

  “Fine. I get it. That was unbearably awkward, and I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, it’s not like we got together with the goal of ‘let’s make Dwight homeless.’ But hey, check this out!” She held her hand over the table. It remained steady even past the thirty-second mark where it would be trembling uncontrollably. “Ian spent about a month looking at my muscle system’s code and fixed it; no more replacement bodies!”

  “This is where I make a shitty joke about you taking his ‘firmware’ updates,” Dwight remarked snidely between bites.

  Glitch’s perky demeanor changed instantly, “If you’re going to be a dick about us, I can just go home now. I figured if you were going to take on a multi-dimensional mega baddie, you might want some help.”

  “Sorry,” he said lightly, “It’s been a long two days. I’m sure you two are great together. I thought he didn’t want you on this. Too dangerous?”

  “I love him, but this is my calling. If something terrible is out there, waiting to destroy my home,” she thought for a short time, “and my love, I’m going to fight it.”

  Dwight wondered if anyone had ever thought of him that fondly.

  “Besides,” she added quickly, “I told him I was heading to work, and that’s technically what I’m doing. Last I checked, I was still on your payroll for the last time I fucked up.”

  “Thanks,” Dwight said, finishing the last bite of his lunch.

  He paid for his meal, and they left together. Once outside, Dwight glanced around the city streets, searching for something specific. He checked his phone.

  “What are we looking for?” Glitch asked, unsuccessfully trying to follow Dwight’s eyes.

  He dashed off, weaving through the midday pedestrian traffic. Toward the end of the block, he veered to the right. About halfway down the alley, he leapt for the hanging fire escape ladder and began pulling himself up. Glitch followed after, jumping to the platform in a single bound. She was up before Dwight had finished his climb.

  “I asked you a question,” she pointed out, “If I’m going to help you, you need to tell me the plan.”

  He was panting, “Sorry, I just realized the time, and we need to get there soon. There’s a car we have to catch.”

  They continued up the escape to the roof of the building. It wasn’t the tallest in New Haven, probably not even in this part of the city, but it had a fantastic view of the street below. The traffic was unremarkable. Glitch watched the Referee hunt for his target while she stretched her mechanical body’s limbs.

  “There it is,” Dwight announced, pointing at an unassuming van.

  Glitch looked down, finding the van after several seconds, “New Haven Cleaners,” she read aloud. “Dwight, that’s just a laundry company.”

  He shook his head, “That’s a cover. It’s StarPoint. I’ve seen them every time a body needed to be handled. They come and go from the parking garage all the time. I’m betting he has a fleet of them down there.” He started running for the end of the rooftop, chasing after the van.

  “And why are we going after a body disposal service?” she asked, heading after him.

  He stopped at the ledge, looking down into the alley below. “That van is heading for the laundry service Wulf uses for the Associate’s suits. I’ve been watching them get picked up and delivered for months. We’re going to commandeer it.”

  “You paid that much attention?”

  He stopped, stepping back from the ledge, “Yeah, I worked for the guy for two years. Of course I noticed some things. Shit, how bad do you think I am at the two things I do?”

  “And what would those be?” she asked, looking down the gap.

  He sprinted for the edge, shouting as he ran, “I know things, and I hurt people!”

  Taking a flying leap, he barely cleared the six-foot distance, only to have his foot catch on the parapet and ruin his landing. He fell forward, slamming his knee into the concrete rooftop of the next building. Dwight rolled on his back, moaning loudly while clutching his leg.

  Glitch cleared the space with ease, landing gracefully beside Dwight’s aching body. “Oh, I know how bad you are, Mr. Referee.” She helped him up.

  The van had passed the end of the block, heading left down the adjacent street. The next rooftop was substantially further than the one they currently occupied. “You didn’t think this through, did you?” Glitch remarked to herself more than Dwight.

  He answered anyway, pulling the wire launcher from his pocket, “Sure I did.”

  Training the weapon on the next roof’s stairwell, he pulled the trigger. The line fired with a burst of compressed air. Its black metal spike anchored into the brick. He tapped a button on the side of the weapon, pulling the line tight.

  As he prepared to leap off, Glitch stopped him with a hand. “Hold on,” she commanded. Taking the launcher, she held
it tight. “How much do you weigh?” she asked, sizing him up.

  “About 190.”

  Tugging with little effort on the pistol, they both watched as the hook tore a huge chunk out of the brick wall. She handed him back the weapon. “Always test your equipment before you use it.”

  He felt ashamed by his lack of prep work this time around. Several feet behind him, Bernard started laughing in his deep, callous tone, “’fraid she’s got ya there, mate,” he cackled.

  Without thinking, Dwight turned and threw the launcher at Bernard. Instead of passing harmlessly through a phantom, it impacted with the giant’s face. The laughter ceased instantly. Bernard wiped a thin line of blood trailing from his nose. With a single hand, he cracked the cartilage back into place.

  Bernard dropped his clenched fists to his sides, “I’m gonna give ya ten seconds to explain why I shouldn’t tear ya limb from limb.” He rolled his massive neck around his shoulders, as Dwight had seen a dozen times when he was preparing for a fight.

  Glitch stepped between them, already assuming her fighting stance, “You’re welcome to try. The Guild’s been looking for you for months, Goliath. I bet they’ll give me that raise I’ve been asking for when I drag your ass in.” Her power lines intensified, a soft glow emanating from her eyes.

  “Stand down; he’s here to help,” Dwight interrupted. He walked over to Bernard without fear. “Sorry, buddy. I’ve been having some mental troubles lately; didn’t realize it was you.” Telling Bernard that he’d been suffering recurring hallucinations that just so happened to look like the brute didn’t feel like a sound tactical decision. He picked up the hook from the floor and replaced it in his jacket.