Chapter Twenty Two
NosPraestolor: We Stand Ready.
The Motto of the Chicago Sentinels.
* * *
A fresh costume does wonders, and by unspoken agreement we all changed before joining each other in the Assembly Room four hours
later. Once more Guardians arrived from their precincts, I’d spent my time flying critically injured to waiting trauma centers
and then cleaning up the heavier pieces of Tin Man’s contribution. Only two civilians had been killed in the battle in the
Atrium, but lots more had been hurt, some badly. The Harlequin, a crackerjack EMT, had saved lives; Rush and his new sidekick—
Crash, aka Jamal, the second blur I’d seen and the breakthrough-speedster from the Puccini’s fight last week—had both been
amazing, pulling the crowd out of the Atrium before we sealed it off.
Standing beside Rush, Crash (and what kind of name was Crash?) looked jazzed to be surrounded by supercelebrities. The night of
the fight the only impression I’d gotten had been young, black, cool corn-rows. I’d been busy. Seeing him now, he looked like a
half grown puppy-dog; lean, angular, hands and feet still a bit too big, with the ropy muscles of a runner. He wore a blue cotton
jumpsuit, presumably till Andrew could do up a sidekick costume, and if the fight had shaken him I couldn’t tell. Rush had taken
the time to thank me—apparently Quin had considered my request and come to him with the idea of mentoring Jamal as an alternative
to the academy. I didn’t say how the deal was going to work, but maybe the new, more serious Rush could do it. I hoped so.
Artemis looked cool and together as ever, her cuts already gone; obviously being alive again hadn’t compromised her ability to
shrug off injuries. Where did she find a ‘blood-donor’ in all the chaos? Lei Zi wore ointment on her burns; she’d gone head to
head with Furnace, the psychotic and now deceased pyrokinetic villain who’d tried to burn down the place using bystanders as
fuel.
Beside Vulcan, a banged-up Galatea grinned at me. She’d given me a broad wink when I came in. “Just wait,” Shell had giggled in
my ear, and I so wanted to know how she’d convinced Vulcan to let her cybernetically possess his favorite toy.
“Thank you, everyone,” Blackstone said, nodding to include Dr. Cornelius and Orb in his greetings as we all sat down.
“As an update, you’ll be happy to know that the most critically injured are now listed as stable. Thanks to the efforts of The
Harlequin, Rush, and Crash”—he didn’t stumble over the name at all—“there will not be more fatalities. Thanks to Astra, our
attackers were unable to attain their goal; the removal of a new guest from our custody.
“Unfortunately,” and now he lost his smile, “our guest’s stay was short-lived. When Willis evacuated the residential levels,
she made her departure.”
We sat in stunned silence, and he sighed, folding his hands.
“While it is highly probable that Kitsune was the bank-robber who’s successful heist last week precipitated events, we are not
the police; without a warrant, we cannot detain an individual who is not caught in commission of a crime or a clear and present
danger. She was free to go, and she did.”
Rush swore. “So she waltzes in here, we kick the crap out of the scumbags after her, and she waltzes back out?”
“At least now we know what she looks… Well, hell,” Seven said, and we all laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh, but it helped.
“The good news,” Blackstone continued, “is that although Villain-X, the unknown Atlas-type escaped, we did capture two of the
new Villains Inc.: Warp and Ginsu. The clay monster turned out to be a magic construct, a golem according to Dr. Cornelius, more
of Dr. Millibrand’s work. Although some here—” he looked at me and everyone chuckled—“refer to her as the Wicked Witch, I
have decided to designate her Hecate. Both Warp and Ginsu are talking to the police at this moment, but Detective Fisher has let
me know that they appear to be low-level soldiers at best and won’t be able to tell us much we don’t already know beyond the
location of a “lair” that is now empty.”
“So what do we know?” Seven asked.
“We know they’re desperate, and they’re less a “supervillain team” than they are a master-villain and a bunch of supervillain
henchmen recruited and kept loyal by money and threats. At this point, I believe I can piece together the chain of events.
Kitsune, whoever she is, got far enough inside the Outfit to learn the identity of the ‘rogue associate’ Mr. Early informed us
about. The heist alerted this associate of his danger, at which point he precipitously dispatched Hecate to tie up all loose ends
—which included the unfortunate Mr. Moffat since they couldn’t be sure how involved he was. I suspect that, but for the
invaluable intelligence provided by Dr. Cornelius, an untroubled Hecate would have been able to capture Kitsune and wring the
identity of any contacts out of her. One of those contacts would have been me, so I am eternally grateful that members of this
team were proactive on my behalf.” His look took in me, Artemis, Seven, and even Galatea.
Vulcan looked lost. “So, if you’re a contact, why doesn’t she turn herself in to you? Or at least pass along what she knows?”
Heads nodded around the table.
“I can only assume Kitsune is playing her own game. Fortunately it seems to include the destruction of the newest incarnation of
Villains Inc.. And today was a disastrous move for them.”
“Why?” Vulcan shook his head. “They lost two goons. So what?”
Blackstone smiled coldly. “This isn’t the movies. Are you familiar with the classic song, The Night Chicago Died?”
“My geek-cred doesn’t cover music.”
“It’s a 70’s pop song about the all-out shooting war between Al Capone’s mob and the Chicago police,” Blackstone explained
patiently. “Great song, never happened. Capone was never crazy enough to go to war with the CPD—after all, how could he win? And
say he did win that night. He’d be facing the state police, the US Marshalls, the US Army, however much firepower it took to
restore order and bring him and his gang in. So he bought or blackmailed cops and judges, worked around the law or made the law
work for him, but he never went to war with it.”
Lei Zi nodded and looked around. “We’re not the police, but we’re the law, the super-powered arm of it, and attacking us head-
on, they’ve brought the storm. The CPD, the DSA, all the Guardian teams are making themselves available. When the time comes, we
’ll be able to bring a hammer as big as it needs to be. First we’ve got to find them, but one by one or all together, we will.
And we’ll bring them down.” Echoes of hard agreement rose around the table, and I felt my spirits rise.
My mask itched, my wig flattened my hair, and now I was wearing them all the time. I couldn’t see my friends—I’d thought Dane
had at least been safe in the Dome, but five minutes more and he could have been in the morgue. They’d attacked us, scattered
bodies around, made war in our own home. But now it was our turn.
Episode Three: Countermoves