Project Northwoods (29 page)

Julia walked toward the in-use sleep chamber, her heart thundering. It was like a scene from a science-fiction movie, moments before the astronauts awoke from cryostasis to explore a derelict alien craft. There was something more sinister about this, though, like its contents were far more dangerous than mere humans.

“I present to you our ace,” Maelstrom said, his voice echoing through the chamber. Julia was nearing the sleep tube now, and she could see the shadow of its occupant. “This room is designed to house Tier Five Bestowed.” She was vaguely aware of the hissing doors of the elevator sliding shut.

“Tier Five?” Julia repeated, casting Maelstrom a look as she put her hand on the glass. Claymore was approaching her, and she turned back to the tube. Inside, the decidedly not-sleeping form of Zombress stared back at her. Shocked, she stepped backward with a gasp and instinctively reached for her gun. Claymore passed her and looked inside.

“Zombress…” he muttered. “Doesn’t look so intimidating when she’s asleep.”

Julia looked at him in disbelief before she had to make sure he was telling the truth. Sure enough, Zombress was now twitching dreamily in a forced coma. Had she imagined the eye contact? Had the moment of seeing her father’s killer made something snap?

“Our most dangerous, and therefore, most valuable prisoners are kept here,” Maelstrom said proudly. “Even if the armor of the Fortress was worked through, no villain would have the daring to destroy such a prize as this room.”

Claymore snorted. “Seems an awful lot like hiding behind a hostage, doc.”

The doctor cast a sneer toward the insolent hero. “Call it what you will,” he said.

“The logic doesn’t take into account that villains are a notoriously suspicious and untrustworthy lot,” Arbiter said, striding toward Julia and Claymore. “They may be just as likely to kill their compatriots as save them.”

Maelstrom stammered. “But… but it just seemed…”

“Keeping the Tier Fives separate from the rest of the population is well-advised, Doctor.” Arbiter stopped just short of the sleep chamber. “But this wouldn’t stop an attack.”

“She’s still alive, isn’t she?” Julia asked, turning toward Maelstrom.

He seemed a little shocked she would address him. “Y… yes, ma’am. She is being kept constantly in a state of pre-REM sleep via cold temperature and careful administration of narcotics.” He puffed up momentarily. “She is a most magnificent… possibly only… specimen of the deity-class Bestowed.” Maelstrom set his coffee down on what looked like a surgical palette and grabbed a clipboard. “My powers of deduction are nearly useless studying what is an almost limitless well of ability.” He offered a laugh out of a half open mouth. “Queen of the Dead, of Fear… a master of the language of reality. The symbols she uses temporarily rewrite how our world functions,” he explained, shaking his head and smiling. “Beautiful creature.”

“Sounds like you have a crush,” Claymore muttered as he examined the tube. He turned toward the doctor. “Surely she can be killed, though.”

Maelstrom shrugged, an action which normally would have signified humility but seemed smug on him. “Doubtful. Once she has ‘shut down’…” He smiled politely. “That is, when she is asleep or rendered incapacitated, her body’s healing rate is profound… greater than anything I’ve ever seen.” He laughed. “She gets knocked down, but she gets up again.” He slapped his hands together, as though the 90’s song reference was the perfect analogy.

“This is the only logical solution,” Arbiter said. “She is too powerful to be permitted freedom.” Arbiter turned toward Maelstrom. “Have you found out anything else?”

“Her psychic defenses are strong… and her abilities are tremendous in scope. Anything I can find will be but the tip of the iceberg.” The doctor looked over the clipboard again. “I think it’s safe to say, however, that she doesn’t realize how profound she actually is.” Then, puffing out his chest, he offered, “On the bright side, shallow sleep and anesthetics have the same dulling effect on her that they do on all Bestowed.” He gestured to the villain. “Hence the chamber.”

“Wake her up,” Arbiter said.

“Of course,” the doctor said gleefully. Maelstrom strode to a nearby panel and began typing in commands. A red light on the console flicked to yellow. He looked at the trio surrounding the chamber. “You will eventually want to step back.”

Claymore looked at the doctor before casting a glance toward his boss. “Are you serious?”

Julia took a few steps toward Arbiter and stammered, “B-but she’s helpless now… why–”

“There are questions which need to be answered,” Arbiter interrupted.

“Don’t we have a guy coming for this?” Claymore asked.

“We’re here now,” the other hero reasoned. “We may as well begin.”

Julia’s mouth worked silently as she stared at Zombress’s sleep chamber. “I… I…” she stammered.

“If you wish to leave, Gunslinger, you may,” Arbiter said, brushing past her, taking her former position next to the sleeping tube.

Her mind raced for a moment. “No,” she said purposefully. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

Red lights, unnoticed until now, began to flash at the top of the chamber. With a hiss of pressurized gas, the door popped toward them, then slid upwards. A blast of frigid air washed over them as Zombress was revealed, feet first and slumping, seeming at peace in her uncomfortable position. The hand-encompassing metal cuffs kept her arms pinned above her head, and her legs were locked together below. Her imposing height gave the chamber an all-too-cramped feel, not that Julia cared much for the woman’s well-being.

Zombress didn’t stir when the door came to a stop. Frost made her hair cling to her head despite the draft wafting through the room. She seemed completely dead, a fact which all present knew to be practically impossible.

Arbiter nodded toward Maelstrom. “Wake her up.”

The doctor tapped something at his console, and the lights flickered for a moment. An audible pop, and Zombress jerked violently, her eyes snapping open. Her head lolled upright, eyes flitting over those present. A smile cracked her lips. “That wasn’t the kind of shock I like to wake me up.” She winked at Arbiter. “But an ‘A’ for effort.”

“There is no time for your foolishness, Zombress.” Arbiter pushed Claymore further aside as he walked toward her. “Tell us the truth about that night in the Heroes’ Guild.”

She looked at him and cocked her head. “I have no idea what you’re dribbling on about.”

He grabbed her head and adjusted it. “People are dead at your hands.”

“That’s a bit of an overreaction.” Zombress pulled her head free of his hands. She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. “We were having a little party and things got out of hand.” She smiled sweetly. “I’d ask if you got the invitation, but you strike me as the kind of guy that’s left out of things a lot.”

“Shut up!” Julia yelled. The interjection startled Claymore and Maelstrom, but neither Arbiter nor Zombress looked at her.

“Gunslinger,” Arbiter growled. “Stay out of this.”

“You killed my father, you bitch!” Julia was surprised that her hand moved, not to her gun, but to her knife. Hearing Zombress talk had awakened something primal, something furious, and she was having a hard time keeping it under control. “Tell him what he wants to know or…”

“Or what, kitten?” Zombress cocked an eyebrow as she shifted her eyes to Julia now. “You’ll shoot me? Stab me?”

Julia took the bait and took a step toward her before being intercepted by Claymore. “Let me go!”

“Do not address her, Zombress,” Arbiter commanded.

“Think about this, Julia–” Zombress began calmly.

“I told you…” Arbiter’s warning hung in the air.

“I’ve known you all your life. I had plenty of opportunity to kill your father when no one would have batted an eye.” Julia stopped struggling against Claymore, but rage still flickered in her eyes.

“There are to be no more distractions,” Arbiter swept in front of Zombress’s line of sight. “Did you act alone that night when you sought to reignite the war between heroes and villains?”

Just a moment longer…

Zombress squinted at the hero in front of her. “You won’t believe a word I say. So my official answer is ‘piss off and die, you arrogant dick’.”

Arbiter twitched disapprovingly. “You should have spared yourself.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the elevator. “We’ll have the interrogator here in a moment. Dr. Maelstrom, prep her to resume her stasis.”

“Yes, sir.” Maelstrom made his way to Zombress as Claymore pulled Julia to follow Arbiter. The doctor knelt by the feet restraints, unaware that Zombress’s eyes were focused on the panel above the elevator indicating the car was rising to their floor. “I hope that you won’t mind another analysis after the interrogation,” Maelstrom muttered as he visually examined the braces. “I think you’ll be more compliant afterwards.”

“Just one problem with that, Herr Doctor,” Zombress said as the light on the elevator ticked one floor closer.

“And what would that be?”

She looked down on him. “I’ve broken out.”

Her legs shot out of the restraints, arced back, and kicked off the back of the chamber as she hefted herself up. Her feet rose above the doctor’s head and fell onto his shoulder blades before slamming him behind her as she leveraged herself. Using Maelstrom as a springboard, she released her hands from their bindings and dove to the ground. She rolled and stood up in one motion, slamming her hand on the stasis computer’s keyboard. Red lights flickered on as the door slid downward. Panicked, Maelstrom shoved his way out of the tube and fell backward, cracking his head on the floor. “You might want to ice that,” she offered before sprinting to the elevator.

Alerted, the others moved to intercept her. Claymore charged, his sword unsheathed, as Julia unholstered her gun and pulled the hammer. Zombress leapt above Claymore, locked his head between her feet, and fell forward, carrying him up and over. The sword clattered to the floor as she released him, pitching his body toward Julia as the villainess landed in a crouch. The heroine managed to fire before her partner’s body collided with her, the rubber bullet catching Zombress between the eyes. The momentum of the bullet snapped her head backward, and instead of fighting it, Zombress flipped back using her hands as springs. She landed upright before resuming her sprint toward the door.

Arbiter darted in front of the elevator doors and adopted a wide stance, bracing for her. The trick would be to get by him without hurting him… too much, anyway. The door behind him began to open. Her fingers etched fading symbols in the air, but they were at least present. Arbiter arced a fist back for a hammer blow as she hit the ground in a slide, the symbols abolishing traction as she slid between his legs. The elevator doors finished opening as she rolled on her stomach, facing her captors as she continued to slide.

“Ta-ta, boys and girls!” Zombress yelled as she gave a wave. As she slowed, she flipped herself upright before stopping in front of the elevator.

The world pulsed, and a wave of heat racked her body. Her head felt much too small for her brain, and she growled in pain as she collapsed to her knees. This wasn’t Arbiter’s power… it was something else… the pulsing of the world was familiar… it seemed to stutter in time with a heartbeat, but not hers.

With a burst of brilliance, she found herself back in the room with the others that night in the Guild, frozen in time, their faces warped in anger. Zombress cocked her head… she was there, too, bringing her arms up. She slowly walked around her time-frozen self, trying to figure out what was going on. There was… someone who needed to remain hidden… someone she knew she couldn’t think of… someone she couldn’t allow herself to think of…

At the vague memory of someone else in the room, a black shadow pulsed behind her frozen clone. A spike of pain flared, temporarily eating the resolution of the room and its occupants, and the shadow she had willed into existence started to solidify. She tried to concentrate, force the shade out of existence, but her effort made her intensely nauseated.

The scene shuddered violently, then began unfolding exactly as she remembered, only in slow-motion. Someone was invading her mind, trying to find something she had hidden from them the first time around. It was a nightmare, unfolding hazily but determinedly, Desert Ranger bringing his hand up, Dark Saint returning the favor. Her own arms were rising, faster than the others, and Tom… the poor man… tried diving behind the past-Zombress. Wait… why exactly could she see herself? Why was this scene being played out in third person? It was like someone built the moment from her memory, stuck her in it, and played it out like a stage performance.

And now there was another in the room, a man, tall and skeletal, with black hair tied back in a ponytail. He was familiar, but she couldn’t place him – every attempt to focus drained her physically. His immaculately tailored white suit almost glistened with its slithering, deep green accents. A matching cape fell gently around his sharp shoulders and fluttered in an unfelt wind. He produced a gold pocket watch and looked at it. “Just tell us what we want to know, Zombress.” His voice was ethereal and echoed off the walls, like they were the physical enclosures of her own skull. It agonized her even more to hear him. “Who was your accomplice?”