Retrocognition
It wasn’t a good sign for their investigation that nobody knew who Evelyn was. Not even FCG.
“I’m sorry, Imogen, but there’s no mention of an Evelyn of that description in any directory I have access to,” they insisted. “You can look yourself if you want, but trust me, I’m very thorough.”
“That ain’t possible,” Imogen insisted. “She’s been workin’ with me at Corkscrewed for months! She exists!”
“Nobody’s saying she doesn’t, Imogen,” Laudna spoke up, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Nobody’s doubting you, I promise. They’re saying that whatever she’s gotten involved in, she’s either been erased from basically all records, or, for some reason, she was never there to begin with.”
“And neither scenario carries especially uplifting implications,” Orym added. “So unless you can send an image of her to FCG for facial recognition, we’re kinda stuck.”
Imogen shook her head. “I’ve tried. FCG might be as smart ‘s any human, but their brain’s still entirely mechanical. My powers don’ work on ‘em, they’re jus’ too different.”
“You can send one to me.”
Given the conversation they’d been having a few minutes ago, it surprised Imogen when Dusk spoke up to offer their assistance.
“I can shapeshift, if you hadn’t noticed,” they pointed out. “I can turn any mental image of somebody into a physical one, no problem. I just need to know what they look like.”
Imogen couldn’t help glancing sideways towards Orym for confirmation. He’d been the one distrustful enough to ask her to read Dusk’s mind, so he should be the one to make this call.
As the second surprise within barely ten seconds, he gave her a small nod.
Y’ sure? she asked silently. They somehow managed t’ block off their mind from me, so I can’t be certain they’re trustworthy.
I agree, he said back. But can you think of another option? Because I can’t.
Imogen sighed lightly before shaking her head.
“Alright,” she said. “Y’ sure ‘bout this?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
It was a clear challenge, made even more so by Dusk’s gaze flickering sideways towards the rest of the group, who’d all reassembled in the Hollow’s meeting room just minutes after splitting up.
Imogen shuffled uncomfortably, but said nothing. She simply closed her eyes and conjured up the most detailed image of Evelyn’s face that she could, and when she opened them, the last remnants of Dusk’s shifting settled into an exact copy of the face of Imogen’s coworker and friend. Her attention was immediately drawn away as a surprised laugh shot through the room, her gaze landing on Ashton’s uncharacteristically anxious expression.
“…well, I can say one thing about her,” they said robotically. “The reason you can’t find her in any databases is because her name isn’t Evelyn. It’s Hope Íñiguez.”
The entire room went dead silent, with all eyes turning to settle on Ashton where they were leaning casually against the doorframe. They looked around at everybody staring, then shrugged nonchalantly.
“I knew her,” they said simply.
“No shit. Who th’ fuck is she?”
Ashton turned to look at Imogen, flexing their facial muscles so as to pull together as neutral an expression as possible.
“I ran a few jobs with her back in Bassuras,” they explained. “I was mostly freelance back then, but she had an exclusive contract with Paragon’s Call, the big power in the city. That was why, when me and the rest of my old group, the Nobodies, all came to Jrusar to pull off the Hexum job, what, five years ago now, I think, she couldn’t join us. Haven’t seen her since.”
The Hexum job. Imogen recalled from the files she’d read through that Ashton and their team had broken into the laboratory of a scientist named Jiana Hexum, and it had culminated in Ashton being nearly killed in the explosion of an ‘experimental graviton generator,’ whatever the fuck kind of Star Trek technobabble bullshit that was . As a result of the accident, they not only developed their powers, but also the extensive scarring down their side that was practically their signature look by now.
“Did she have an accent?” Imogen asked. “British, bit of a cockney twang t’ it?”
Ashton nodded. “She said she was from Bassuras originally, but she’d lived in England with her mother since she was two. Then her mom got killed when she was twelve, and she got deported back to America.”
“Cardiff?”
Ashton nodded. “That what she told you?”
“More or less, yeah. She lied ‘bout most a’ th’ details, I’m beginnin’ t’ see, but th’ general gist is th’ same.”
They sighed. “She always was a good liar, unfortunately. She had this thing… basically she could pick up on the smallest of tells on anybody she was talking to. She knew lies inside and out, so she knew how to pull them off. It was what made her such an asset to the Call that they made an exclusive contract with her.”
“She told me somethin’ about microexpressions,” Imogen agreed. “She showed it off all th’ time at work, an’… elsewhere.”
Ashton raised an eyebrow at the addition, but, thankfully, didn’t pry.
“FCG, now that you’ve got her face… can you do anything?” Orym asked. “Can you get us the last place she was sighted?”
“Working,” FCG responded. “…got something. Traffic camera in the southern district picked her up about an hour and a half ago. Footage shows her walking into a desolate apartment building, no evidence of injury. The building doesn’t have any security cameras left that are still active, so I can’t pinpoint her exactly.”
“That’ll do. Thanks, Letters,” Orym said. “If she’s involved with the Call, then this’d have to be a job for everybody. Laudna, can you transport all of us as well as Dusk?”
“Won’t be too difficult,” Laudna confirmed. “We may be a little off target, but it shouldn’t be by more than a couple metres.”
“That’ll more than do,” he replied. “Everybody suit up, we leave in five.”
The apartment building looked almost exactly like the one Imogen had found refuge in after she first ran away from home, which she tried not to see as poetic.
The lobby was absolutely trashed, with used coffee cups and tissues strewn across the cracked linoleum floor, scattered amongst piles of dirt, dust, and leaves. The table and chairs setup off to the right side of the front door had long since collapsed, with the table legs somehow having made their way across the room and now outlined the entrance in the saddest red-carpet setup Imogen had ever seen. Across the room was a pair of swinging doors, one dangling from a single hinge, with a sign hung up beside them that displayed an icon of a little man walking up stairs. On the left wall, opposite the small table and chairs setup, was a set of elevator doors scratched up so severely they could barely be recognized as metal, and beside that was an open archway leading down a long hallway that was lined with even more doors, some numbered, some no longer. The whole aesthetic was topped off by a wheelchair knocked onto its side blocking the hallway, its wheel almost entirely rusted over.
The sight of the wheelchair randomly triggered Imogen’s insane mind to recall a line she’d heard from a comedian she liked: ‘something happened there. You hope it was a miracle.’
She curtly shook off the rising chuckle in her throat. This was definitely not the time for this.
God, she needed a therapist.
Imogen? Orym thought towards her. Can you link us up?
Right! Sorry, jus’ a moment.
She reached out to everyone around her, establishing a connection with them and looping them all together. In her time with the Hells, she’d worked out a way of creating a network of minds and using her own subconscious as a relay, effectively making her a living radio tower.
Alright, silent running only, everyone, Orym said. We don’t know who’s here, and we don’t know what they can do, so stay alert. Chet, Fearne, you ready for medical assistance?
Got the emergency kit right here, Chet replied, pointing to the tiny backpack that strained against his massive wolven shoulders.
And me and Mister are both ready to stem the blood flow, if necessary, Fearne announced, gesturing to the small, flaming monkey that stood at her feet.
Superhero life was so fucking weird.
Good, keep your heads on a swivel, Orym said. Chet, you picking up a scent?
Chetney lifted his snout into the air before taking a big sniff. He winced uncomfortably, then shook his head.
This whole place smells like cocaine and worms, he said. It’s too strong, I can’t get a read on anything else.
We’ll have to do this the old fashioned way, then, Orym sighed. Fearne and Dusk, you take the upper floor. Laudna and Imogen, you take the basement. Chet, Ash, and I’ll search this floor.
Got it!
Everyone immediately split into their smaller groups, with Laudna making her way over to Imogen’s side as they approached the doorway.
We’ve got this, alright? she assured Imogen. We’ll save your… friend, I promise.
…yeah. Thanks, Laudna.
She tried hard not to linger on the slightest hitch in Laudna’s thoughts on the word friend.
To ground herself back in reality, Imogen absentmindedly reached out to thread her fingers through Laudna’s, leading the other woman to give her a soft, affectionate smile. She then stepped forward, their hands still locked together as she lead her quietly down the stairs.
As they approached the bottom of the stairwell, Laudna lifted her free hand and twirled her fingers gracefully, and a veil of shadows descended across the two of them, obscuring their forms. Laudna looked back at her, then smiled once more.
In case we have to get away quickly, she explained.
Imogen just nodded in reply.
They stepped forward through the doorway that had presented itself at the bottom, revealing a large, maze-like boiler room that was already starting to give Imogen a headache just by looking at it. Everything was run down, nothing seemed to be working, and nothing in he room displayed any signs of unusual activity whatsoever.
I don’ see anythin’, Imogen said. But it’s difficult t’ see much without th’ lights. This place ain’t seen use in years.
There’s more passages over that way, Laudna said, pointing across the room towards something that was way out of Imogen’s sight. It looks like a hallway, I think, or possibly just a doorway to an office? It’s hard to tell from here.
Y’ can see that far in th’ dark?
Shadows are my natural habitat, darling. If I couldn’t see through them, I wouldn’t be much use to anyone, would I?
There was a strong hint of playfully talking down to her, something that Imogen’s body responded to in a way that she quickly fought back with a large, metaphorical stick.
Not th’ fuckin’ time for that, idiot.
Still hand-in-hand, Laudna delicately lead Imogen between large, rusted pieces of equipment that Imogen couldn’t name if her life depended on it. In the back of her mind, she tried to recall when her last tetanus shot had been.
Here it is, Laudna announced. Be on guard, Imogen. We don’t know where this goes.
Imogen nodded, which Laudna took as her cue to push the door open.
The first thing that Imogen noticed was how conspicuously quiet it was as it swung outward, which was explained with a quick glance at the door hinges. They weren’t pristine, but they were notably much less rusted than the rest of the building.
The second thing she noticed was just how fucking deep the stairwell on the other side of the door extended.
I can’t see all the way, Laudna spoke up. It goes down maybe two stories, then it turns to the left pretty abruptly
Gimme a sec, I gotta thing I can try.
Imogen positioned herself in the doorway, then closed her eyes and gingerly lowered her telepathic barrier, allowing the environment to flood her mind. She sensed the presence of her teammates on the floors above, she heard Laudna’s comforting music beside her…
…and she felt the distinct buzz of many unfamiliar minds below them.
Someone’s down there, she said to Launda. I can hear ‘em. At least a dozen, by my count, although it’s pretty likely there’s more past my range.
Can you hear Ev—Hope? Laudna corrected herself.
(Imogen felt for her. It was a change she was also struggling to cement in her mind.)
She closed her eyes again, listening carefully, then shook her head. Don’ think so, she confirmed. But there’s a lot a’ traffic down there, an’ it’s far enough away that she could be gettin’ lost in th’ mix.
Laudna nodded, then glanced upwards.
We found something, she projected through the link. Basement, across the room. There’s a stairway going even further down, and Imogen says there’s a lot of people at the bottom
They received a series of responses in the form of nonverbal confirmations.
If she’s in danger, then we’ve already waited long enough, Imogen said to Launda. We can’t wait for all a’ them, we gotta go ourselves. At least t’ make sure she’s still alive.
Laudna nodded in agreement, then stepped forward, leading Imogen quietly through the doorway and down the stairs. As she did, the shadows that clung to them seemed to tighten and grow, as if they were preparing to swallow the two of them whole.
As the they rounded the bend, a faint beam of light became visible ahead, streaming through a pane of glass set into a thick-looking door. Through the window, Imogen could just barely make out a man dressed in a pristine white suit, limbs long and thin like a spider, with a head of hair the color of ashes that drifted all the way down his back. He faced away from the window so she couldn’t make out his face, but he stood straight, looming over somebody in front of him.
It was Evelyn Hope, tied to a chair, bleeding and and beaten and barely conscious.
Fuck. Guys, we found her, Imogen sent out. She’s bein’ interrogated 007-style from the looks of it, but she’s alive.
How many others are there? Orym sent back. Can you tell if they’re powered? Do you think we could take them?
Imogen looked over to Laudna, who nodded in understanding before kneeling down to get a better view.
Give us a sec, Imogen said.
As she did, the now-familiar tingling feeling of Laudna’s shadow teleportation rose up Imogen’s body, and her view went dark for a moment, before she found herself crouching behind a pile of large wooden crates.
Laudna looked over from beside her and gave a slow nod, then gestured towards the edge of the crates before holding a finger to her lips: they’re around there, but be quiet. They’re within earshot.
Imogen carefully took a look around the corner of the crates, only to find that she was on the opposite side of the door they’d been looking through a moment ago. The room was smaller than it appeared, but clearly served its purpose, with an archway on either side presumably leading to more of this hidden complex, but Imogen couldn’t tell through the walls of heavily armed goons filling the space. The thin man still loomed over Hope, his features appearing as if they were once delicately sculpted, but life had weathered his soul, leaving behind a weariness fraught with time and experience. He stared Hope down, his deep blue eyes crackling like hurricanes.
“I’ll ask you again,” he said slowly, in a deeply measured and threatening tone. “Who. Did. You. Call?”
“Ghostbusters.”
The moment the word left Hope’s lips, the man’s hand moved like lightning, slapping her straight across the face.
“You do not get away with betraying the Ruby Vanguard, Miss Íñiguez. Or… what was that charming little nickname you came up with? La Gata?”
“Chúpame la polla y vete al infierno, tarado.”
Another slap across the opposite cheek. Hope reeled from the impact for a moment before spitting blood onto the floor.
“Tendrás que hacerlo mejor eso, hijo de puta.”
“Speak English, traitor,” the man growled at her. “And don’t think I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Believe me, you’ll pay for every. Single. Syllable.”
Hope simply stared him straight in the eyes, a defiant expression on her face.
“Bring it, gilipollas.”
The man leaned in closer, getting directly in the face. “I’ll ask you once more, basura. Be cooperative, and perhaps I can find it in my heart to make your death quick. Now, who did you call?”
“Your mom. She was just telling me how amazing last night was.”
He sighed heavily, not even bothering to back away from his position right up in her face. He then stood up and glanced over towards one of his goons.
“Take her back to the cells and lock her up,” he instructed them. “Make sure to use one with an electronic seal. She’s annoyingly skilled with picking locks.”
“Yes, sir!”
Two of them rushed forward to untie her from the chair, then roughly bound her wrists behind her back and dragged her off down the hallway.
The man sighed once more, walking over to a nearby table to pick up what Imogen recognized as Hope’s phone.
“It’s unlikely to yield results, but see if you can crack the encryption on this,” he said, handing it to another goon. “She’s definitely no computer genius, but she knows plenty who are, so don’t expect it to be easy.”
“Yes, sir!”
The goon scooped up the phone before rushing off in the opposite direction.
Imogen glanced back at Laudna, who nodded sternly before lifting her hand and summoning another wave of shadows to wrap the two of them up like the world’s coldest bedsheets. A moment later, the two of them stood back at the top of the stairs, just as a series of footsteps echoed from the stairs back up. A moment later, the rest of the Hells, plus Dusk, all rounded the corner before walking up to them.
“She’s still alive,” Imogen confirmed. “But th’ guy she was bein’ held captive by wasn’t Paragon’s Call, he was Vanguard. An’ he kept sayin’ she’d betrayed them somehow. He tried t’ get her t’ say who’d she called, but she jus’ kept insultin’ him.”
Ashton groaned. “Sounds like her. Never able to stop being a smartass at the absolute worst times.”
“Why the fuck is she involved with the Vanguard?” Chetney spoke up, asking the obvious question that had yet to be brought up. “Ashton said she worked for Paragon’s Call, right? And now she’s working for an entirely different group?”
“Y’ know as much as I do, Chet.”
“Alright, well, what’s the game plan, then?” Dusk asked. “We going in guns blazing, or are we taking the sneaky route, or something else entirely?”
Everyone automatically turned to look at Orym.
“Guys, I’m not the leader. I’ve said this before,” he insisted. “We make decisions as a group, all of you just keep deferring to me.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, shut up,” he sighed. “Fine, how about this: two teams, one charges in as a distraction, the other sneaks in to find her?”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“That’s it?” he exclaimed. “Really, you’re just listening to everything I say, no questions asked?”
Everybody except Dusk simply shrugged.
“Fine,” he sighed. “Imogen, Laudna, Ashton, you’re on team stealth. Fearne, Chet, and I’ll be team distraction. Dusk… you’re the guest here.”
“Makes sense for me to be team stealth,” they told him.
“Fair enough. You four, quiet as possible. Ashton, I know that’s not always your thing, but you know Hope the best, so pipe down as much as you can. Give us exactly two minutes, then head in, we should have been able to lead enough of them away by then for you to sneak through. Got it?”
He hesitated as everyone nodded in return.
“Fuck, I do sound like the leader, don’t I?”
He shook his head. “Whatever. Right now, it’s not important. Two minutes, alright? Exactly two minutes.”
“Yes, mom,” Ashton groaned.
Orym rolled his eyes, then looked over at Fearne and Chetney. The three of them exchanged nods, then Fearne burst into flames as they, plus Mister, charged off down the stairs.
Dusk held up their hand, silently counting the seconds to themself. Imogen raised an eyebrow, only to notice Laudna holding back a snicker at the gesture, which immediately soured her attitude.
“Since Laudna can’t take us anywhere she hasn’t seen or can’t otherwise picture, we’ll have to start right at the bottom of the stairs,” Ashton spoke up. “If I know the Vanguard, which I do, the cells will be on the same level as the entrance so the guards are right nearby. A stupid arrangement that none of them have thought to fix, right up there with interrogating prisoners in the fucking mudroom.”
“But we don’ know how big th’ level is,” Imogen pointed out. “An’ even if we did, we can’t be sure we’ll be goin’ in th’ right direction.”
“Exactly. Which is why we’ll need a quick and easy way to access information on the layout of the bunker, and that is something most guard outposts will have on file as shorthand. Which means, we need a quick way to infiltrate the guards and get ahold of those blueprints.”
Almost against her will, Imogen followed Ashton’s gaze, landing on Dusk’s distracted expression.
“…one-twelve, one-thirteen, one-fourteen…”
They glanced up as they counted, and upon noticing everybody staring at them, their attention immediately shattered, trailing off as they took in three sets of eyes locked on them.
“Huh?”
“This feels uncomfortable.”
“Well, luckily for you, it’s only for a few minutes.”
Dusk’s voice was deep and scratchy in their new form, having adopted one of the faces of the guards Imogen had seen in the interrogation room. They were tall and stern, with shoulders wide enough to make The Rock jealous, with a dark brown crew cut, stoic blue eyes, and a jaw sharp enough to cut glass.
“You’re oddly uncomfortable for a career shapeshifter,” Ashton observed. “You work for the Cobalt Soul. Surely this ain’t shit.”
“I’m under more pressure than I usually am, okay? I typically have a chance to observe somebody before becoming them, and I’m not usually on a time limit like this!”
Hearing such an anxiety-riddled voice coming from such a cartoonishly stern soldier, with the most ‘toxic masculinity’ vibe Imogen had ever seen, would have been cripplingly hilarious in any other situation.
“Just go in, find it, come right back out, alright? Less than a minute. You’ll be fine,” Ashton insisted. “Come on, you’ve pulled off worse than this. You took down that insane asshole that nearly killed Jackie Skellington over here, this is nothing.”
Dusk’s eyes flickering over towards Laudna, who tried to send a reassuring smile, but from Imogen’s perspective, it looked less like a ‘you can do this’ sort of expression, and more like the look of somebody who had just met their celebrity crush in person.
Imogen swallowed a wave of bile rising in her throat. Now was not the time for this.
Dusk took a steadying breath, then nodded. “Alright. I got this,” they said, although it looked as if they were trying to reassure themself more than everybody else.
At that, they turned and marched off down the hallway from where the other three stood in the room where Hope had last been spotted.
“Something about them seems off,” Ashton observed. “A little thing like this shouldn’t be so difficult.”
Imogen’s attention immediately snapped to Ashton as the fact that a second teammate was voicing skepticism towards the shapeshifter sunk in. Laudna, on the other hand, didn’t seem to hear them, she was just staring wistfully down the hall where Dusk had disappeared through.
Remind me an’ Orym t’ talk t’ you later, she projected towards them.
Ashton gave a faint nod.
It was another minute and a half before Dusk rounded the corner, immediately returning to their usual form. They held up a single piece of paper, their face completely white as if they’d seen a ghost.
“Got it,” they panted. “Right down that way, then two lefts. There’ll be a couple guards on the way, they’re supposed to be stationed intermittently around the whole complex.”
“But at least some a’ them shoulda been drawn away,” Imogen pointed out. “So there won’t be as many as usual.”
“Hopefully. C’mon.”
As the four of them took off down the hallway, Laudna raised her hand in a gesture that Imogen now recognized as her summoning a veil. As she did, the shadows across everybody’s forms seemed to stretch and darken, like glitched light physics in a cell-shaded video game.
Ashton took the lead, their muscles tight as they prepared to take direct fire. As the group took their first left, a pair of guards came into view, but before they could react, Ashton leapt forward, grabbing their heads and slamming them together, leaving them to crumple to the floor.
“Fourth-rate henchmen at best,” they muttered to themself. “Standards for the Vanguard have been slipping.”
As they rounded the second corner, another pair of guards came into view, standing sternly on either side of a heavy-looking door. They both moved lightning fast, lifting their assault rifles and firing off several rounds, but Imogen slashed her hand through the air, deflecting all of them into the wall. As she did, both Ashton and Dusk dove forward, each grabbing a guard and knocking their heads against the wall before tossing aside their unconscious bodies.
“Smooth moving so far,” Dusk noted, brushing their hands off on their pants. “The door’s probably locked, though. Any chance one of you can pick locks?”
“Yeah, I can,” Ashton said simply. “Stand back.”
They cracked their knuckles, then stepped up and thrust forward with their hands, impacting the door with an echoing SCREECH. Their fingers dug into the metal, their grip getting tighter and tighter, then they yanked backwards, dragging the entire doorframe out of the wall with a loud CRASH.
“First floor. Haberdashery, footwear, and evil supervillain dungeons,” they quipped, tossing the chunk of rubble to the side. “After y’all, as Imogen would say.”
“I do not sound like that.”
“Yeah you fucking do, Sweet Home Alabama.”
“I’m not from—”
Imogen was cut off as a hand gently settled on her shoulder, and she glanced over to see Laudna giving her a hurried look.
“Not at the moment,” she insisted. “Hope’s right through there. She needs our help.”
Imogen nodded, then glanced over at Ashton once more. They exchanged looks of assuredness, then took the lead, stepping forward through the improvised doorway.
The prison was surprisingly small, barely larger than a New York apartment, with about half a dozen closet-sized cells all spaced out along the walls. Through the bars of the cell across the room, Hope was visible, staring wide-eyed at the new arrivals with a look of shock on her face.
“Who the fuck… Imogen?” she gasped. “You’re… oh, shit.”
“Surprised y’ hadn’t figured it out, t’ be honest,” Imogen chided her, rolling down her mask as she rushed across the room to observe the lock. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ Dreamcatcher. Y’ got lucky with your one phone call.”
“That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have called you,” she insisted. “They’re after you, Imogen. They sent me to—”
Wherever her sentence had been going, it was cut off the moment her eyes landed on Ashton.
“…Ash?” she said, her voice small.
“Back in the USSR, Kitty Cat,” they said simply, holding out their arms in a presentory fashion.
Kitty Cat? Imogen thought to herself.
Then something Hope had said the morning after their hookup suddenly resurfaced in her memory: I’ve got… some complicated feelings of my own.
Okay. Well, that was a definitely a discussion for later.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Hope squeaked out, her eyes trailing up their side as she took in the extensive scarring across their body. “And… did you just tear off the entire bloody wall with your bare hands?”
“That’s a story for after we get the fuck outta here,” Ashton insisted. “Imogen, can you unlock it?”
“Don’t bother, I got it,” Laudna called out. She melted into her own shadow like the world’s creepiest alka-seltzer, before stepping out of the wall behind Hope a moment later. She reached out to grasp her shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp from Hope, before both of them vanished and reformed behind Ashton.
“Wh… how did…”
“Not the time, Cat,” Ashton insisted. “We don’t know how long the others can keep the guards distracted. We gotta get the fuck outta here. Laudna?”
“I can, but there aren’t enough shadows in this room for me to transport five people without major risk,” Laudna replied. “It was pretty dark behind those crates me and Imogen used to hide behind, though. That should work.”
“Oh, I think not.”
Everybody’s attention was suddenly drawn back towards the giant hole in the wall, where the white-haired man from before stood firmly, his hands clasped behind his back.
“La Gata here hasn’t yet received her proper punishment for betraying me,” he stated simply. “And, as it turns out, she’s more useful than I realized, because thanks to her, I’ve now learned that the two most prominent Exaltants in Jrusar are, in fact, the same person.”
His eyes landed squarely on Imogen.
What?
“That severely lowers the number of assassins I’ll need to employ,” he continued. “You were going through them so fast anyway, and the ones you weren’t refused to do their jobs.”
His gaze shifted accusingly to Hope, who winced in pain as she stood defiantly between four different superheroes.
“Yeah, because I’m sick and tired of being your perra, Ludinus,” she growled. “My debt was to the Call, not you.”
“I am the Call, Miss Íñiguez,” he shot back. “Just as I am the Vanguard. You forget who conquered who in this situation.”
“Then as far as I’m concerned, the Call doesn’t fucking exist anymore.”
The man, Ludinus, rolled his eyes.
“You’re going to be a problem,” he stated. “I suppose punishment is out of the question now. I’ll have to simply dispose of you.”
He raised his hand at lightning speed, his fingertips flashing with light as a beam of energy shot from his palm, and as it did, everything seemed to slow down.
The beam crawled through the air towards Hope, who instinctively raised her arms to try and defend herself, even though it was clearly a useless gesture. Imogen raised her arm as if to blow it off course, even though she knew that her telekinesis only worked on physical objects, but she was working on autopilot at the moment. A wave of telepathic energy washed over the bolt, which seemed to crackle and spark in response, but continued unerringly towards its target.
It never made it.
Like a scene in a cheesy action movie, Ashton dove forward to wrap their arms around Hope’s shoulders from behind. They spun her around, surrounding her with themself and causing the bolt to slam into their lower back.
Then it got weird.
Rather than damage Ashton, it was instead absorbed into their body, conducting through their nervous system like electricity through a wire and causing their scars to flash with white light. It was then channeled down their arms and through their fingers, and as it did, it jumped from Ashton to Hope, sparking across her shoulder and spreading through her body in the same way it had Ashton’s. Ashton barely flinched, but Hope let out an ear-splitting shriek of pain before falling unconscious in Ashton’s arms.
“Huh,” Ludinus said simply. “That’s new. Well, take two, I suppose.”
He once again raised his hand, his palm sparkling with energy, but before it could build up enough to fire, something large and furry slammed into him from behind, sending him crumpling to the floor as his attack dissipated into sparks.
“Yeah, that’s right, bitch. Now stay the fuck down before I go all Predator on your ass.”
Standing over Ludinus was the towering wolven form of Chetney himself, and flanking him was Orym and the blazing figure of Fearne, Mister perched on her shoulder. It was like a fucking comic book action pose, and much to Imogen’s chagrin, she had to admit, it did look pretty cool.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Orym called over to them. “Get your asses in gear! Move!”
Ashton, Imogen, Laudna, and Dusk all snapped into gear, with Ashton scooping up Hope’s unconscious body like a paper bag as they went. The group all charged down the hallway, the sound of a large group of guards beginning to echo from behind them.
“Sorry, we couldn’t hold his focus,” Orym explained as they went. “He’s got abilities we don’t entirely understand, so we couldn’t do much to counter them. He just sort of rolled over us.”
“We got Hope, we got what we came for, so let’s jus’ get th’ fuck outta here, yeah?” Imogen responded.
“Over here!” Laudna yelled, passing through the doorway back into the interrogation room. She dove towards the pile of crates, then waved her hand, and the shadows began to stretch and bend across the floor, as if reaching out to grasp the others.
One by one, they all rounded the corner and leapt into the darkness, disappearing from view as they did. Laudna stayed behind, waving everybody through, until it was just her and Imogen.
“C’mon,” Imogen said, holding out her hand. “Together?”
Laudna smiled softly. “Always, darling.”
She reached over to lace their fingers together, causing Imogen’s heart to skip a beat. They glanced back the way they’d come, a platoon of heavy footfalls echoing down the hall, then turned to each other before stepping forward into the void.
“Then what the hell’s wrong with her?”
“How should I know? I don’t understand any of this! I’m just a spy, this whole situation we’ve got going on here is way outta my league!”
As Orym had telepathically told her, it was best to stay out of Ashton’s way whenever they got this mad, and given that the target of their ire today was Dusk, any inclination she did have to intervene already would have been swept away.
Ashton’s nose twitched as they paced back and forth in front of where Hope, still unconscious nearly half an hour later, lay on a medical bed in the Hollow’s makeshift infirmary. A series of instruments and scanners hummed as they slid back and forth, projecting readings onto a nearby screen that displayed data miles beyond Imogen’s understanding.
“That man back there was Ludinus fucking Da’Leth,” Dusk explained exasperatedly. “Also labelled in the Cobalt Soul directory as Eon. His powers are entirely magic-based, which is, unfortunately, beyond my already-slim area of medical-related expertise. If you want to know what’s happening to your girlfriend here, I would not be the one to talk to.”
A strange, unpleasant sensation reverberated through the room, and it took Imogen a moment to realize that nobody else was reacting to it, meaning it had been telepathic in nature. She quickly glanced around at her friends, trying to locate the source, but nobody displayed any signs of unusual reactions.
“She’s not my fucking girlfriend, I haven’t even seen her in years,” Ashton growled. “I just want somebody to tell me what the fuck that jackass did to her.”
“And that somebody isn’t me. So, please, stop yelling at me.”
It struck Imogen just then that this was a starkly different version of Dusk than the one who’d been nervous to infiltrate a group of henchmen, for, as far as she could tell, no reason. This one was calm, reasonable, and snarky, but the Dusk earlier had been awkward and unsure of themself.
The questions about this newcomer were starting to pile up, and Imogen wanted answers.
“Then who the fuck do we talk to?” Ashton demanded. “Because for all we know, she could be fucking dying, and it doesn’t look like anybody here is making any moves to help her.”
“She’s not dying, Ashton.”
Everyone glanced up towards the nearest monitor as FCG spoke up.
“I can’t explain what’s happening either, but I can say with confidence that her vitals are holding steady,” they confirmed. “But she’s going through a massive metabolic shift of some sort, and of all the databases I have access to, there’s only one other report of something even remotely similar to this occuring.”
“Well, who the fuck was it, then?”
“That would be one Ashton Greymoore, following their near-fatal exposure to an experimental graviton generator.”
There was a drawn-out pause as everybody turned to look directly at Ashton, who stood frozen in the center of the room, a shocked expression on their face.
“… you’re telling me Cat stole my fucking powers?” they asked, absolutely bewildered.
“I don’t know, Ashton, I’m sorry,” FCG told them. “I don’t understand any more of this than you do, all I know is what I’ve already offered.”
Ashton’s nose twitched once again, then they sighed aggressively before stomping out of the room. There were several, long moments of awkward quiet as everyone exchanged glances, before Chetney finally broke the silence in his signature blundering fashion.
“Well, guess that conversation’s done with. Anybody want booze?”
Pretty much everyone simultaneously either rolled their eyes or sighed heavily before they broke apart, filing through the doorway in single file. Imogen paused before she left, glancing back to see Fearne standing over Hope’s unconscious form, her mind emanating an aura of uncertainty.
“Fearne?” she said, turning back to step towards the bed. “Y’all right? What’s up?”
Fearne glanced up, startling slightly, but didn’t seem surprised to see that she still had company.
“Oh, Imogen,” she said bluntly. “Sorry, I was just… I don’t know, honestly.”
“Y’ worried ‘bout her?” Imogen asked. “FCG said she’ll be alright, she’ll pull through. No need t’ worry.”
“No, it’s not that,” Fearne shook her head. “It’s… I’m not sure. Something about her, it makes me feel…”
“…feel…?”
“I don’t know,” Fearne repeated. “I don’t remember if I’ve ever had this feeling before, to be honest. I don’t think I like it.”
Imogen raised an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean?”
“It’s like… like I don’t want her to be here,” Fearne said uncertainly. “Like I wanna be mad at her, but I can’t think of a good reason. I just met her, she can’t have done anything to piss me off, surely.”
“Want me t’ look?”
Fearne once again shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine,” she said. “I should probably work it out myself. That’s what Nana Morri would tell me to do, that way it’s more fulfilling, or something. Thanks, though.”
Fearne gave Imogen a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before brushing past her and walking out the door. Imogen stood there for a moment, glancing back at Hope before turning to follow after her, but found her exit blocked by an uncomfortably familiar figure.
“Wanna explain why exactly you were drilling into my head, now?” Dusk asked sternly. “No more crises to jump at, no more friends to back you up. I just want the truth, alright? Plain and simple.”
Oh, right. This.
“Ah. I was just… that is, I didn’t mean—”
“If it’s a good reason, then I won’t be mad, I promise,” Dusk insisted. “I’m not unreasonable. Just tell me the truth, alright? I don’t like having this clouding our every interaction.”
Imogen nodded, slowly, so as to give her brain a moment to think.
“It’s… it wasn’t anythin’ personal, I promise,” she lied. “I’ve… had some… bad experiences with… people like you, ‘s all. Shapeshifters, that is. An’ th’ Cobalt Soul as well, so I was jus’… a little on edge…?”
If Dusk could tell that she was spewing absolute bullshit, they did an incredibly good job of hiding it. Maybe Imogen should’ve been an actor rather than a bartender.
“Oh,” Dusk said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
“’S alright, it ain’t your fault,” Imogen replied. “I know that now. It wasn’t a good thing t’ do, I’ve jus’ got some issues.”
It wasn’t completely wrong.
“I understand that,” Dusk chuckled. “And if it helps at all, this is what was messing with my mind.”
They turned their head to the side, pointing towards a small metal stud implanted into their skin where their left ear met the base of their skull.
“Telepathic scrambler,” they explained. “The Vanguard’s full of mind readers and telekinetics like you, so getting one of my own was kind of a non-starter while investigating them.”
Well, that did a little to assuage Imogen’s worries. Not nearly enough, though, but she kept that to herself.
“Hey, listen, I gotta go update some of my files, but… uh, well, I’ve got… maybe an awkward question before I do…” they said, shuffling nervously on their feet. “It’s… well, it’s about Laudna?”
Imogen tried not to let her shock show on her face. At this rate, she practically deserved an oscar just for surviving this conversation.
“Shoot,” she heard herself say.
“It’s… well, I was wondering… are you and Laudna… y’know?”
Imogen just stared blankly.
“I… well, I mean… I just … are you… and Laudna…?”
“Are we what?”
“Y’know… you and Laudna. Are you… are you two a thing?”
Imogen wasn’t sure if she genuinely didn’t understand what Dusk was asking or if her brain simply refused to process it.
“Whaddya mean?”
“Mmm… y’know… romantically entangled.”
Dusk punctuated their question by making two scissors with their hands before crossing them over each other, evoking a scene in Imogen’s mind that made her entire brain short circuit like a blown-out lightbulb.
“Um…” she forced out. “No?”
“Okay,” Dusk breathed, grinning awkwardly. “Okay. Good. ‘Cause, y’know, I was kinda getting some vibes, so I was just wondering, is all.”
“I… I could see it.”
Okay, idiot, maybe th’ fuck up already?
“Oh… okay. I didn’t want to tread on anybody’s toes, so I just wanted to ask before… y’know, anything. Thanks, and… sorry again.”
Imogen just shook her head in reassurance, too stunned to remember something as complicated as the English language..
“Well… I should probably… go… do that thing, now…” Dusk laughed nervously. “I… I guess I’ll… see you around, then.”
At that, Dusk gave an uncomfortable wave before quickly shuffling away, leaving Imogen to try and pick up the pieces of her rapidly fracturing psyche.