Chapter 27: Por que no los dos?

Singh drove the hummer down the avenue. It was that still, magical hour of the night when the city seemed enervated, the streetlights causing the iced over pavements to glitter, coronas of orange light flaring around their lamps. Cars had been pushed up onto the sidewalks. Shattered glass reflected moon light. The smell of smoke was thin and pungent in the air, and seven blocks over the sky glowed a dull orange.

James felt light, purified by grief that had been, if not processed, then strongly felt before being repressed all over again. His Agility and Speed made him feel a little more liquid, a little more self-possessed, and he still wasn’t used to the sensation of natural strength and explosive potential for movement and violence.

But it was more than that. His high Arete, his Lead Aura 6, his ability to summon Smite and Sacred Strike - it made him at once a stranger and a wonder to himself. Who was he? Not the man that had slipped into bars just before closing time to feel the warmth and dream of being able to order a whiskey. Not the man who’d lie awake at night under a layer of cardboard beneath the overpass, trying desperately not to think of all the good meals he’d once had.

That James, wary, cynical, broken, self-effacing, waiting to sublimate into the polluted air - that man was gone.

Was his replacement a truer version of himself, the man he might have become, his ideal self? Or had he died, in a sense, and become something else, a reflection of the cipher that had walked the streets, now filled with purpose and a fierce desire to do better?

And if he was himself still, how much change would it take before he ceased to recognize himself?

They rolled on, Singh in no rush, a spotlight slowly crawling over the buildings, teasing out dark corners. They saw plenty of gremlins. Just because their malefic cousins had arrived on the scene didn’t mean they’d exited stage left. Thousands of them infested the city, fuck, tens of thousands, maybe more. The Fourth Wave had been a colossal clusterfuck, and only today were they coming to terms with the repercussions.

A city crawling with Nemeses.

But still James felt hopeful. Perhaps it was delusion. But while he was still able to level, while he could still manifest abilities like Sacred Strike, there was hope. And who knew what he’d manifest in ten more levels? In a hundred?

The Humvee abruptly slowed.

“There,” said Singh, and James leaned out to peer around the canvas awning that covered the passenger cargo area in the back.

A Nemesis 2. It turned its porcelain mask to stare at them, its sneer identical, its expression dour and striking, the entirety of its body nightmare-inducing.

It was emerging from a dark window. For a moment it just hung there, frozen by the beam of light, and then it flickered up the wall and out of sight onto the flat roof.

“Hold on,” said Singh calmly. “It’s time for some action driving.”

They tore through a three-point turn, then shot back half a block and turned down the street. Cars were parked on both shoulders, but somehow Singh threaded the needle and raced down the center, so close that James thought he could reach out and touch the passing vehicles.

“You got eyes on it?” asked Singh.

“Negative,” said Mancini.

They turned at the next intersection, putting them a block over from the original sighting, and just idled there, the engine rumbling.

“Nothing,” said Mancini at last. “These bastards are hard to pin down.”

James stared out over the tail gate. High in the air, perhaps ten blocks away, wreathed in purple flame, hung a demon symbol.

Not the same as the one inhabited by the Monitor that had deigned to speak to him, but instinct caused him to speak out. “Hey, sergeant? Can we take a loop past that demon sign up in the sky behind us?”

Singh adjusted his rear-view mirror to get a lock on the symbol, then looked to Mancini.

“Why not,” sighed the sergeant. “We’re just spinning in circles out here.”

Singh made the right turns and James lost track of the symbol.

“What are you thinking?” asked Huffman. She’d been dour all night, swaying with the car’s movements, gun hanging across her chest, expression bleak.

“I’m thinking we might as well cross shit off the list.” James rippled his fingers on the emergency fire axe he’d liberated from the NYCEM. The haft was of smooth, stout hickory, the head painted red but for the blade which sported a stripe of wicked naked steel. “The Nemesis 2’s are going somewhere. It’s probably not the YMCA. So, let’s check the huge demon beacon hanging in the sky?”

Delvecchio frowned at him. “Hold up. I thought you said those were where the Monitors chilled out and watched us all.”

“Yeah. But maybe it’s got multiple functions.”

Serenity had her head back, eyes closed, head rolling with the car’s rhythm. “As Ernest Hemmingway once said, ‘Por que no los dos?’”

Delvecchio’s frown deepened as he stared at her. He opened his mouth to comment, caught himself, sat back.

“What did you spend your points on?” James asked the automatic rifleman.

“Aeviternum. It’s the new hotness since you came back from the dead.” Delvecchio’s grin was ghastly. “Apparently they don’t want their smitey-SAW dudes dying on them too quickly.”

Huffman snorted. “Soon as I hit Level 5, I’ll back you up.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Delvecchio bumped her shoulder with his own. “That mean you’re cheering up at last?”

“Sit on a barstool the wrong way and spin, asshole.”

“I’m with Huffman on this one,” said Serenity, eyes still closed. “I’ll even help you with the mount.”

Delvecchio laughed. “You guys are crazy. Who doesn’t spin when they sit on a barstool? I used to love doing that as a kid.”

Serenity cracked open one eye and stared at him.

Delvecchio stared back, his face a picture of innocence.

Serenity closed her eye. “You were one fucked up kid.”

Delvecchio sighed contentedly. “Still am.”

The blocks rolled by, and in less than a minute they slowed then stopped.

“Symbol’s a block ahead, but I’m seeing some weird activity,” said Singh.

James moved forward so that he could see out the front windscreen. The blocks ahead were all dark, with faint hints of the purple flame reflecting off cars and windows.

“Why’s it all dark?” asked Huffman, craning to see.

“Power outage?” suggested Delvecchio.

“Right under a demonic symbol?” Singh sounded appropriately doubtful. “Perhaps the demonic energy has tripped the power line reclosers.”

“Let’s keep it cool,” said Mancini. He grabbed the flashlight mounted by the hummer’s side mirror on his side and swiveled it over the buildings to their left.

James didn’t have an angle to see, but Mancini went rigid.

“Get us out of here, Singh! Go go go!”

Singh’s reaction was silky smooth. He slammed the Humvee into reverse and floored it. Everyone in the back fell on each other as the engine roared, and Singh turned around to navigate, sliding out of the block at ever faster speeds.

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Heart pounding, James righted himself. Nothing attacked them. They reversed another two blocks before Singh hit the brakes.

“What the hell, sarge?” snapped Huffman, her fear barely masked by anger. “What was it?”

“Nemesis 2’s.” Mancini pulled out his radio. “Hundreds of them, crammed like ants between the buildings.”

James felt his skin crawl.

Mancini called in the info, and they all sat, breathless, as the radio operator on the other end confirmed the message. A Killer Egg was being sent to fly over the locale.

“What the fuck are they doing?” asked Delvecchio, his voice taut with nerves. “Is it like a slumber party?”

“Yeah, it’s exactly like that,” said Huffman, hitting him irritably with her elbow.

“They were moving about,” said Mancini, and for the first time James the faintest hints of panic in the man’s voice. He’d never seen the sergeant this spooked. “They were doing something, but I couldn’t tell what.”

“Fuck,” said Delvecchio. “Like, like what?”

“I don’t know.” Mancini sat back, shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Ten minutes later the radio buzzed. “Star 41 inbound, on your location, four minutes.”

A few minutes later the sound of a helicopter grew, and then a Killer Egg buzzed overhead, its spotlight much larger and harsher than the hummer’s.

“Star 41,” said the radio. “I got the target. We’re inbound.”

James stood up in the back, the edge of the canvas against his chest, arms resting atop it as he watched the bubble chopper fly over the buildings, curving so as to not pass directly beneath the burning symbol. It did several loops, skimming just over the rooftops.

The radio buzzed, a different voice. “Command, I’ve got eyes on multiple targets, several hundred at least. Request permission to engage with min-guns, over.”

“Star 41, permission denied. Return to base, over.”

“Command, order confirmed, returning to base, out.”

The Killer Egg zipped away through the night.

“What the hell, sarge?” Delvecchio’s outrage was sharp. “Why didn’t they terminate the fuckers?”

The radio crackled. “Sergeant Mancini, you are not to engage the hostiles, repeat, do not engage the hostiles.”

“Command, this is Sergeant Mancini, order confirmed.”

Singh needed no prompting. He began to reverse once more.

“Hold up,” said James. “I’m getting out.”

Singh stopped the hummer and Mancini twisted about to stare at him. “Bad idea, Kelly. We can’t back you up on this one.”

“I’m not going in. But I want to circle, get a better sense of what’s happening here. The Killer Egg can’t have seen everything.”

“They’ve got a battery of sensors. We’ve got an Orion in the sky. You don’t know what they picked up.”

James hesitated, but his instincts told him to press on. He couldn’t just return to NYCEM and sit tight till the army briefed him. In a few hours dawn was going to break and he’d be meeting potential recruits for the DRC. He had to have something to tell them.

But it was more than that. He didn’t know if it was intuition, or instinct, or his Arete that was cluing him into a fact: they’d not win this war by being cautious and slow.

And he’d not level up from the safety of the NCYEM.

“Not saying it’s wise, but I am getting out.” James’s tone was firm. “But I’m not running in, either. Just going to scout around.”

“We can’t engage, but we can get you out if things get too hot,” Mancini said. “Radio in. We’ll stay close.”

“Sounds good.” James leaped lightly out the back of the hummer and landed neatly on the road. A second later Serenity landed beside him, a Sig in each fist.

She met his gaze. “This feels like a terrible idea, but that’s never stopped me before.”

“I’ll never hit Level 500 if I don’t start taking risks.” James propped the axe over one shoulder and reached into the hummer to draw out the 10 ft. of rebar he’d stolen from a construction site. He’d used Duct tape to create a grip, and the corrugated length of it felt springy in his hand.

Mancini was still staring back at them. “Come round to my window.”

When they did, he frowned, raised his hand, and then a wash of power flooded through them. It felt like dipping into a swimming pool filled with Red Bull, washing away the first hints of fatigue. But more than that, James felt stronger, more lethal, more… everything.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” said Serenity. “Now we’re talking. Was that Bless?”

“It was,” said Mancini. “And what I should have done before we engaged the Nemeses. It should have given you both a +2 bonus to every stat.”

“Outstanding,” smiled James, thinking of Hackworth’s favorite word. “How long will it last?”

“Spread over two of you? An hour at least.”

“And you can do this to just two people?”

“Up to six, including myself. I hit the fireteam, too. If I focus it on just one person, however, the bonus becomes +5 to each stat and the duration doubles.”

“Very nice,” said James. He patted the windowsill. “We’ll be in touch.”

Singh leaned forward to make eye contact. “Stay safe.”

“Unlikely,” said Serenity. “Ready James?”

There was fear, but more than that there was need. Need to learn more, to kill, to level, to start taking control. It felt good to be in the night air, invigorated by Mancini’s bless, ready to face the enemy and learn more.

He stepped back from the hummer, axe in one fist, rebar propped over the other shoulder. Turned to stare at the burning symbol three blocks away and gave a slow nod.

“Ready.”

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