Tatterdemalion's fingers danced over the keyboard. She was inputting code faster than her mind could come up with it.
"Dammit," she muttered.
"What the frak are you doing?" Gabriel 7 inquired.
"It's defragging!" she shot back. "There's only one thing to do!"
"Oh hell no," Gabriel 7 warned her. "You are only a watcher and not a participator!"
Tatterdemalion's fingers touched the screen and then she disappeared, as if she was beamed away by Scottie in that silly old sci-fi show she liked so much.
COLLECTING DATA FOR CRASH DUMP.... INTIALIZING DISK FOR CRASH DUMP... A problem has been detected and needs to be corrected. DRIVER _IRQL_NOT_LESS_THAN_ZERO If this is the first time that you have seen this message, restart the program. If this message appears again, follow these steps: Check to see if any new equations have been added to the software. Add ILLIK_NO_ZERO_ZERO_SEVEN_NOVEMBER to the coding Restart again.
Half an hour later he was finishing the first donut with a smile. “Thanks, Cal.”
“You're welcome,” Callan said. “I feel more than a little responsible for you being stuck here.”
“Don't be ridiculous. You needed back-up to stop whatever the hell that was, and I told you to call me anytime. It's not your fault the – what did you call them?”
“Guàiwù.”
“That they set the building on fire.”
“If you hadn't intervened with the police, the truth may have come out. Which would have had further undesirable consequences.”
“Like us being sent to the looney bin.” Dex smiled again, bit into the second donut. “Callan, I don't pretend to have clue what is going on with all this weird, mystical stuff. Between your Guàiwù and Darius' Undead I am way outta my depth these days. But I figure I became a cop to stop bad things from happening to people and this qualifies.”
Callan nodded. “There has been an alarming rise in manifestations of ancient evils lately... However, if I may speak honestly, my real concern is not with the return of forces from the past but with the arrival of... even stranger forces from the future.”
Dex had been a detective for years now. He had the instincts. “You're talking about Max.”
By sunrise Wraith had stopped three random muggings, prevented a gang of drunken frat boys from assaulting two women, interrupted a corner-store robbery and scared off four street cops who were laying a beating on a young hood. She hadn't killed anyone.
There was an ache in her muscles from all the combat – not that any of her opponents had been close to her equal – but there was a calm inside her. A stillness that even her deepest meditations hadn't achieved. She was tired but for some reason she swung by the Diner rather than heading home. Mask off now, nunchakus hidden, walking on the street like a normal citizen.
Wraith wondered if any of the others would be there at this time of day. The monk made her uncomfortable – he had clearly studied in one of the ancient traditions, which meant that he was dangerous and that he may know more about her origins than she would like. They would have to have a conversation at some point. The cop was nice enough, tough as nails, not corrupt like a lot of his comrades. If she was being honest with herself, she thought he was pretty cute. The strange one was, well, strange – he was quiet, decent with a pistol, but he had a look on his face sometimes like he wasn't entirely here.
The kid was there, in a booth near the back. He waved her over when she entered. Wraith decided as she sat down across from him that she wouldn't share what she had been up to all night. Not yet.
“You're up early, Darius.”
“Shelter was full last night,” he said. “They let me stay here sometimes as long as I don't fall asleep or bother the other customers. Payback for chasing off the gangs, I guess.”
“You don't have a home?” Wraith asked.
Darius shook his head.
“Come crash on my couch,” she said, like an order, that peacefulness inside her.
Maggie pointed to the two poster ads on either side of the steps leading up. On the left one a large green cross was prominently featured, some sort of environmental initiative, and the right was a car ad, a picture of a sun-lit country road. Frank nodded and drew his cell phone as they made for the stairs. Tapped open an app that performed localized location searches. He had a bit of trouble getting a signal at first until he tinkered with the hacked LEGACY code that his phone used for wireless access.
“I've got a hit on a bar called 'The Crossroads' about two blocks from here.” He tapped open the satellite map. “This looks like a pretty standard downtown neighbourhood...” He glanced at the prominently displayed weapons of his companions.
Max shrugged. “The pic Akimoto sent was clearly of a monster.” He fished out his cell, started tapping the screen.
“Does he even know how to use a cell phone?” Frank had his doubts about the barbarian; he was weird even by Plex measures. Frank preferred it when things stayed military, corporate, and he could even handle a little supernatural, but cross-cultural time-travelling holy warriors who may have originated from somewhere in outer-space stretched his comfort-zone. Truth be told, the entire magical subway creeped him out. But Maggie trusted Akimoto, and if Frank started questioning her judgement he would end up doubting his own place here...
Max showed him the pic. It was definitely a giant, horrifying monster. “Alright then,” Frank said. “Stealth mode off.” And he slipped his SMG out from under his coat.
There was a faint creaking sound from somewhere on the second floor. They paused, listened, but it did not repeat. They continued up the spiraling staircase. Max slipped Joy and Pain out of the shoulder holsters under his jacket.
“When will I get a signature weapon?” Angst asked quietly. Max had his pistols, Maggie had her sword, Suki had her weird gun (and Dexter had his bat, Wraith her nunchakus and Darius his bible, but Angst hadn't met them yet [and Aqua had her gauntlets and Akimoto his sword, but Max hadn't met them yet]).
Max paused again, turned to face her and sat down on the stairs. He seemed thoughtful. Angst wasn't sure exactly how long she had known Max – time had gotten very strange ever since she had met Maggie and the others – but she recognized this look.
“Max,” she said. “Now's not the time to get all theoretical. If you don't know just say so.”
...the variables that transfer between variations in the performance of or possibly confinement to Continuity become the triggers for us to recognize and remember our relationships to each other and to ourselves as primary externalized factors of our intentions and reactions towards the prevalence of hostile interactions with plureality as manifested by the recurrence of weaponry throughout versions as we become in effect distribution systems for directed violence and become weapons ourselves except that i'm also usually wearing a t-shirt with some kind of tagline, and suki often retains her school uniform, dexleatherjacket, dariustrenchcoat andnowangstthecheerleader maybeourfashionisanothermediumanothermessagewecarryaswebecome...
“Max...” Angst repeated, mimicking a stern tone she had heard Maggie use before.
“I don't know,” he said. “Do you want one?”
Angst shrugged, looked at the pistol she carried. “I'm not sure...”
Max asked, “Do you want to go shopping for new clothes, next time we have a chance?”
Angst looked down at her outfit. She had been wearing it, or a version of it, almost the entire time that she had been traveling with Maggie and the others. It always re-set whenever they shifted, stayed clean and whole. Same went for her pom-poms, tucked away in her satchel.
“I'm not sure...” she said again.
“That's okay, you don't have to be.”
Angst looked back to Max. “And you don't always have to know the answers. I'm not saying that you're a know-it-all, I just mean that... If you're unsure about stuff, or worried, or scared, you can let me know. You can always be honest with me.”
Max smiled. “Thank you.”
Angst nodded. “Alright, let's go find out if this place is really infested with ghosts.”
Maggie slipped into the passenger seat and winced in pain. “Did they tag you?” Max asked as he started to accelerate the car.
“No. I'm feeling pain from doing all those acrobatics on the way down.”
Max nodded. That meant that they had shifted into a version with different bio-physical parameters. Luckily it had happened after Mags had made her escape from the building or otherwise, athletic or not, she wouldn't have survived the fall. “Do you need any first aid?”
Maggie shook her head. “Let's do an orientation.” It was their standard ritual for trying to identify what version they were in.
“Yes please,” Goner said from the back seat. Maggie spun around, startled, and Max made a yelping noise.
“How long have you been here?” Max shouted.
Goner explained that in his version, he and Max had been driving down a long country road, on the way to meet a farmer who was advertising some firearms for sale. They had found the ad online at a public library. Next they had hot-wired a car, scoped out some corner drug dealers and rolled them for their cash. It was nasty, but the last shift had left them without cell phones, money, or weapons. The geography had changed enough that none of their storage caches were available. And none of the standard contact protocols were in effect; the Professor wasn't answering, Pretty George wasn't answering, the other Dragons weren't answering. There was no subway system. They couldn't find a local version of the Diner or the Bookstore. Max had tried a few of his rituals, his trances, but hadn't gotten any clear directions. Goner had reminded himself that it wasn't all that different than being stranded behind enemy lines in a war zone; you did what you had to.
“So I was grabbing a nap and woke up when I heard Max talking to someone just now.” Goner leaned forward and offered his hand. “They call me Goner, ma'am. And who might you be?”
“I'm Maggie. Nice to meet you.” She smirked. “Again.”
FRANK (takes a sip, then his attention is caught by the billboard) Guys...
MAGS Silence is a nice soundtrack, Frankie.
MAX closes his eyes.
FRANK This image... It changed.
MAGS springs to her feet, katana in her hand, quickly kissing MAX on the top of his head, turning and raising her blade as the strange beings emerge from the billboard. MAX flicks his cigarette and snatches up his pistols, leaping off the platform and turning in the air to fire back at the invaders.
FRANK (drops his beer and draws a pistol from his jacket) It was nice while it lasted.
MAGS being swarmed, her katana slashing. MAX falling backwards, firing, his cigarette falling beside him. The beer can dropping through the air, FRANK sighting on the head of the bizarre alien beast.
Suddenly the light of the Godhammer flickered out.
“Shit,” Max said.
“Max, what's going on?” Suki asked, her voice uncharacteristically nervous. It reminded him just how young she was.
A hundred calculations bloomed and decayed in Max's mind, there was a silvery, fluid feeling in his stomach. He knew that meant that his chakras were fluctuating. What was negating her weapon? Was it related to Mode's warehouse? What would reassure her? Should they abort the raid against Mode? Would Goner actually relax more without the weird weapon working? Would Suki be safe without the gun? The mission objectives were changing.
Everything is going to change, Cube, but not enough to keep you safe.
“Okay guys, Ariadne Protocol. Tell him how you found the Godhammer, Suki. I'm going in by myself, stealthy like.”
No one knew how Suki found the gun; it was one of the dozens of lost or forgotten truths that they all lived with. The story she chose to tell, however, would keep her and Goner linked, bound up in the tale and the telling, like a spell, in case there was some kind of shift, and hopefully they wouldn't be separated. And Max would use any synchronicities about weapons to follow like breadcrumbs leading him back to her (the last time they had used a version of the Godhammer story Max had reunited with Suki at the Excalibur Cafe).
First things first, though. Put a stop to Angus Mode's latest transaction in corrupt psychic weapons systems.
Her cell rang. Lorde ringtone, Baby be the class clown, I'll be the beauty queen in tears.
“Hello? Oh, hiya... Not too bad, how about you?... Actually, well... To be honest, maybe not so good... No, I know, I'm not judging it... I think I was just having an episode... Yeah, fighting demons, it felt like hours but I'm pretty sure I just got home about twenty minutes ago... And the cat, he was here... Yeah, the talking cat... Jesus, I'm shaking now... I'm pretty sure it's over, unless I'm hallucinating this phone call... haha... No, I'm glad you called... No, I'm going to keep going, if this is what it's like for Max then I want to know... Holy, I just had major deja vu!... Ok, listen, I'm going to have a shower... Yeah, I'm safe... I will... Or you call me back if you don't hear from me by ten... Great, thanks again... Bye.”
Maggie looked down to see if there was a cat at her feet...
They stuffed their pockets with batteries and headed out. It was matter of walking and listening; they let Aqua carry the stereo. Their path zig-zagged as the faint voice appeared and disappeared in the static, like a shadow in a blizzard. Goner and Max had reconned most of the town in the two days since they had arrived here in the motel by the highway, so they kept up a good pace. By evening they had passed beyond the city limits, tracking the flickering signal along a country road. Enough moonlight that they didn't need to break out the flashlights yet.
Max had been in a gunfight, took a bullet, came to in the shower of the motel room (with a new scar on his abdomen). Goner had been sleeping in a hotel with Frank and Max before waking up in the new room (he was worried about Frank). Aqua had stepped through the subway doors into the room (seconds after Akimoto, but where was he?); these kind of sudden shifts were pretty common on the subway so Aqua had taken it in stride. Dexter had been reluctantly practicing a meditation exercise with Callan; he hadn't recognized Goner or Aqua and was pretty sure that he was in some form of deep trance, his body still in half-lotus on the floor of Callan's apartment.
It was morning before the signal cleared up enough that they could make out the voice. It was repeating a recorded warning about a radiation leak, insisting that everyone turn back.
“Doesn't explain why there's no people,” Aqua said.
“Unless they-” Goner started.
“There'd be corpses,” Dexter interjected. He looked at Max and sighed; Dex had seen a lot of strange things in his days but things always got that much weirder when Cube showed up. “Alright, let's keep going.” He shook his head.
He decided on the direct approach and exited the motel room with both pistols raised, marching steadily towards the car. A coffee truck was parked at the corner and the driver shouted at the sight of an armed man in the street, as the sedan doors opened and three more armed men appeared, wearing the latest datacore clubwear, sleek and shiny like their computer-modded SMGs.
And then a kid on a skateboard suddenly skidded to a stop between Max and the triggermen. Everything paused and the kid shouted, “Sufrir mi furia justiciera!” Suddenly the gunmen collapsed, shaking, blood running from their eyes and ears.
“Morning Darius,” Max said, holstering Joy and Pain. “That's new.”
Darius smiled. “I was getting tired of Latin, so I started learning Spanish.”
“Cool. Any idea who?” He gestured at the defeated mooks.
“The Manticore Crew. One of the new Legend gangs. They hired a freelance sorceress, which is probably how they tracked you down. But I had a vision during my morning prayer, tipping me off.”
A few minutes passed. Nothing changed in the city. Someone was on the balcony of the apartment to the left, one storey up. It looked like they were talking on a cell phone.
Something made a shattering sound from the kitchen. Max dashed inside to the bedside table, scrambling for his gun. There was no gun.
Why would you own a gun?
Max ran into the kitchen. It was empty.
Why would there be someone here?
Max sighed. He sat down on the couch, flipped open the laptop. Typed.
Your love is a pareidolia.
There was a loud sound outside, a huge sound. Max dashed back onto the balcony. He was starting to feel dizzy. There were explosions in the city. The figure on the other balcony was pointing into the sky, shouting something.
Max watched the explosions getting closer, screams and sirens rising like a choir.
Angst raised the gun and squeezed the trigger. It was easier this time, more of the bullets went where she wanted them to. Maggie stood beside her, her foot braced against Angst's, like an anchor, all of her bullets going exactly where she wanted them to.
Heads exploded, arms tore off, chests exploded. But they kept coming and kept getting closer.
“Come on, Angst!” Maggie shouted. “Gimmie a K! I said give me a K!”
Bullets and gore, flashing and stinking in the dark.
“K!” she shouted.
By the time Mags got her through K, I, L, L, T, H, and E the horde had stopped. Angst was crying and shaking, but she was reloading. “Now... Now you give me a why...”
Maggie smirked but her eyes were soft. “This one is pretty simple. Those things were bad and they needed to be stopped. It won't always be this clear or straightforward.” She placed a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. “Or this violent.”
Previously... We decide to hit the pub instead. Settled in at Rob Roy's, I order us four pints. Maggie corrects me; only three please. The beer is good, the atmosphere is cozy, and we feel good about the win. Something's troubling me, though. By the time we part and I start walking home my mood has darkened. I'm distracted and don't notice how strange it is that I have an apartment in the very town we came to today for the mission. As I enter the Brownstone and head up the stairs to apartment 23, I realize what's bugging me. It's Max. The way he handles himself, the way he confronted the demon, the way he went to work on the zombies, guns blazing. I'll never be like Max. No matter how many missions they let me tag along on, I'll just never really be like him. I'm too nervous, I'm not in good enough shape. I always doubt what I'm saying. I don't know enough, I'm not that cool under pressure. I turn on the TV, start cooking up a can of noodles. I feel edgy, unsettled. I almost feel mad at Max. Like he's a cocky show-off, like he thinks he's so much better. Truth is he wouldn't even be that special without Maggie and Angst. I know that I'm being pathetic, and that just makes me feel worse. There's a movie on the TV I've seen before but I can't remember the name or the plot. A knock at the door. As I open it I realize I'm in a motel room. The smell of noodles is coming from a bag of take-out on the bed. It's Angst and Maggie. Angst says, "The police scanner picked up chatter - sounds like there's still something weird back at the cemetery." Mags smiles. "Gear up, Max. We must have missed one."
