New Olympus Saga (Book 4): The Ragnarok Alternative (16 page)

Mark went down with a roar of rage. “You fucking bitch. You fucking bitch.”

“Mark, this isn’t her. I’m not her!”

He didn’t listen and kept trying to kill her. Christine could have kicked his ass a dozen different ways – he was operating on a human level, and Snipe could have given any Type One Neo a run for his money – but contended herself with making sure he couldn’t hurt her. She parried his punches, blocked his kicks, easily avoided his attempts to grapple her. She outwaited him, letting him vent his rage.

Maybe I can patent this. Combat therapy
.

He started to slow down after a while, and she tried words again.

“I’m not…” Parry, dodge. “The Christine…” Block, somersault over him, follow up with a soft kick that sent him flying into the wall of a burned-out supermarket. “… who did this to you!”

He bounced off the wall and got to his feet again, but he didn’t charge her.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Remember our trip to the Ukraine? The First? My trip into Earth FUBAR?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, this is Earth FUBAR for me. I’m from another Earth. One where we beat Mister Night. One where I didn’t turn into the Bitch Queen.”

“Bullshit.”

“If I was her, why haven’t I kicked your ass? Why am I letting you attack me?”

“It’s just another game. Get my hopes up. Then fuck me up as soon as I let my guard down.”

“Come on! We’re linked together. My connection to my Mark is working on you; that’s how I found you.”

Except Mark had couldn’t feel that connection. She could feel his fear and despair, but he couldn’t feel anything from her.

“If you let me in, let me fix our psychic link, you can see the truth for yourself.”

He hesitated. If he did that, she could hurt him even worse.

“Mark, let’s be logical. If I’m the evil bitch, blocking me isn’t going to save you, is it?”

“Guess not. Guess I’m fucked either way.” The bleakness in his voice and aura broke her heart. “Fine. You win.”

He lowered his defenses.

Even with his cooperation, it was hard to reopen the link. He’d all but destroyed it, during the final fight with Mister Night, only in this world he’d done so a little too late to keep his Christine from being corrupted. It had never been reestablished, because, trite as it sounded, it could only work between two people who loved each other, and that love had died over New York on that terrible day. She had to push through the little trickle of a connection that had alerted her to his presence, heal it, and allow it to grow back.

As soon as that happened, Mark fell to his knees.

It’s you. It’s you, the real you. Christine
.

It was the saddest, most beautiful moment in her life. It was like coming home after you’d given up any hope you ever would, like being told the terminal illness consuming you had miraculously disappeared, like having every loss in your life made good. His love for her was overwhelming, all-consuming.

He rushed towards her, not to try to kill her this time, and she met him halfway. He made a face, and they kissed.

The hardest part was getting out of Snipe’s leather armor.

Dreamland, July 19, 2014

“So there you go. I cheated on you,” she said, turning her back on the two phantoms making love in the ashes and dirt.

“With me,” Mark said. He wasn’t angry. He was incredibly sad, sadder than he’d ever been, but he wasn’t angry. He hugged her tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Sorry? For giving that poor fuck what he needed? Shit. That poor fuck was me. You got him out of hell. How the fuck could I resent that?”

A wave of some indefinable emotion – relief, maybe; happiness that he didn’t hate her – washed over her. They were both sobbing as they held each other.

“There’s more, Mark,” she said after she’d cried herself out.

“Poor bastard didn’t make it, did he?”

She shook her head and discovered she hadn’t quite cried herself out.

“But at least he had that time with you. You gave him that. Whatever happened to him, he had that. Thank you.”

“I love you, Mark.”

“And I love you.”

Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, July 19, 2014

We had to take a break after that.

Part of me wanted to be glib about it.
Help, I’ve fallen into a chick flick, and I can’t get out
. I couldn’t do it, though. I was beginning to understand what the whole love stuff was about. It wasn’t about sex or possessiveness or the happy-dopey bullshit that was mostly hormones and endorphins shutting down your brain. It was a mingling of lives until you weren’t sure where you ended and the other person began. It wasn’t pleasant, or comfortable, or predictable. When it was good, it was the best possible thing. But it didn’t come free. Not free at all.

We just cuddled and cried for a good while, then agreed we should get some fresh air and recharge our psyches before she finished the rest of her story. It sounded like a good idea, and yet I started to miss her about five minutes after we went our separate ways.

I sort of wanted to call Condor and talk about it, but this wasn’t the kind of thing guys could talk about without embarrassing themselves to death. At least not the guys I knew, including myself. And if not him, who? All the friends I could have confided in were dead. And I hadn’t exactly cultivated any friendships in the Legion. Closest thing to a buddy there was Hyperia, and ever since she’d hooked up with Ultimate, that friendship had run into a wall.

Talking was probably overrated anyway. For the most part, people just wanted to whine about whatever ailed them in front of someone who’d smile, nod and say whatever the whining party wanted to hear. I could get a dog and get the same results, with the added bonus the dog would genuinely love me simply because I fed him.

So instead of finding someone to talk to, human or canine, I just flew around the island, making sure I stayed off commercial flight lanes. It was still a novel experience, after years of getting around by stealing cars, taking the subway, or leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and it helped clear my head. After an hour or so, I felt better, if not quite ready for another ride on the emotional rollercoaster.

I realized I’d made a decision of sorts along the way. And that meant there was somebody I should talk to before going back to Christine.

* * *

Adam Slaughter-Trent was spending his Saturday afternoon doing mad scientist stuff in his workshop, of course. I found him bent over a designing table, fingers flying over the giant touchscreen on its surface, giving shape to some gizmo I couldn’t even begin to describe, let alone understand. For all I knew, it might be able to shrink tumors, blow up asteroids, or maybe do both depending on which way you turned the dials.

He didn’t look thrilled to see me. That didn’t bother me. Few people like it when I drop by.

“What can I do for you, Mark?” His tone wasn’t exactly welcoming, either.

“It’s about Christine,” I said, and that changed his attitude. Cold fish and creepy as the guy was, he did care for his daughter-sister-niece.

“Is everything all right?”

“Not really, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re the only family she has here.”

“Technically, Justice Princess is a genetic relative as well,” Adam said.

“Yeah, but they don’t exactly exchange Christmas cards, do they?” The Princess found the whole thing disturbing and wanted no part of Christine. Maybe if their first encounter hadn’t ended with Christine kicking her ass, things might have turned out differently. “You’re the only relative who gives a damn.”

“True enough.”

“So, well... That’s why I’m here.”

“Yes?”

“To ask for your blessing.”

“Ah.”

“I’m not going to do it right away. I haven’t even gone shopping for a ring or anything. But I figured I should get the ball rolling.”

“I see.”

“I know we’ve only been together for less than a year, a lot less when you take out the time I was sort of dead. And her coma. So, less than a year.”

“There is that.”

“But, I don’t think that’s an issue.”

“You love her.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

“And she reciprocates. That’s obvious even to me, and I’m not adept at those kinds of social interaction.”

“Me either, when it comes to that. I’d much rather beat some assholes to a pulp.”

Adam grinned, and there was more than a hint of the Lurker in that grin. “I can sympathize with that.”

“But yeah, she feels the same way I do. Probably bad judgment on her part, but what can you do?”

“Nothing much. For whatever it’s worth, you have my blessing, Mark. You’re a good man. Some rough edges here and there, but a good man nonetheless.”

“Thank you.”

It was weird. I didn’t exactly go around fishing for compliments, mostly because I didn’t give a fuck what most people thought of me, but hearing Adam’s words actually meant a lot.

“I have no doubt you’ll make her happy.”

“Even if it kills me.”

“And I suppose the customary thing is for me to threaten you with bodily harm if you ever make her unhappy.”

Even now that I was a top-tier Neo, I wouldn’t want an amalgam of the Lurker and Doc Slaughter to come gunning for me.

“If I ever screw things up with her, I hope you fuck me up good. I’d have it coming.”

“Good. Then it’s settled.”

Adam stepped forward and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the family. Assuming she says yes, of course.”

“Well, there is that.”

I still wasn’t looking forward to experiencing the rest of Christine’s story, but now I could see a light at the end of that tunnel.

* * *

I was heading home when I got an e-mail. Marked urgent. From Ultimate.

For a second, I considered letting it sit in my inbox until Monday, but something made me open it. The message had a video attachment, and it read:

She is mine. This video makes it clear. I suggest you make your peace with this and let us be.

I ordered my comm implant to open the attachment. The video played right into my notional eyes.

I watched Christine and Ultimate fucking like mad weasels in heat. Doing it rough, doing the kind of things Condor and Kestrel would call good clean fun.

Something went click inside my head.

Freedom Island, Caribbean Sea, July 19, 2014

Breakups are never easy, but they rarely involve fights to the death.

“Ali, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, we do.”

It all started normally enough. Not wonderful, but normal-like. Ali had been through her share of failed relationships – fewer than one would expect, given her age, but still – and knew what was coming. Or at least, thought she knew. The look on John’s face pretty much told the story: equal parts embarrassment and shame.

“Come on, let’s get some fresh air,” she said. She definitely didn’t want to have it out inside Freedom Hall, where there were too many ears around, human and electronic. They ended up strolling along Remembrance Park, a nice patch of neatly cultivated vegetation that was off-limits to the public. That was where Legionnaires went for some outdoors peace and quiet.

The park wasn’t empty, of course: several Legionnaires were enjoying the place, a couple of them with their families. Ali watched them wistfully, hoping there wouldn’t be any yelling before they were done; she didn’t want to disturb her colleagues.

“We can go somewhere more private,” John said, following her glance. “No need to hash this out in front of an audience.”

“It’s fine. We’re both grownups. I’m not planning on raising my voice. Are you?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then as far as everyone is concerned, we’re just having a nice chat while enjoying some sunlight. So, John, how long have you been cheating on me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “A few days. It happened twice. More if you count a few phone calls and text messages.”

She was pretty impressed with him despite herself. At least he just laid it all out.

“Who was it?”

It took him a moment to fess that up. Ali realized he hadn’t been running around with some fan-girl; this wasn’t a meaningless tryst.

“Christine,” he finally said.

“Jesus fucking Christ, John!” she hissed at him. Not raising her voice was turning out to be much harder than she’d thought.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said.

“I don’t. You’ve been seeing her behind Martinez’s back? How do you think that’s going to turn out?”

“Christine is breaking up with him even as we speak. Yes, we should have been up front about it. I agree. Things, well…”

“Don’t even try to say things just happened, John. Things don’t just happen. You make them happen.”

He slumped and lowered his head in shame. “You are right. I made a huge mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve never been a cheater. I’ve never been one to abide cheaters. There is no excuse. I am so very sorry, Ali.”

“I accept your apology,” she said. “I’ll drop by your place tomorrow afternoon to pick up my things. Try not to be there when I do. You can change the key codes after that.”

“Ali…”

“We’re done. You were right. I deserve better. And you should consider getting more therapy, John. This kind of behavior isn’t like you at all, and after last year’s mess, that should worry you as much as…”

“Wait.”

Ali stopped talking. John’s head was tilted up as if he was listening to something. His hearing was a lot better than hers, so he probably was.

A moment later, someone landed in front of them.

Mark Martinez. Face or no face, he was clearly in a fighting mood. The cat was out of the bag.

“Martinez…” John started to say.

“Fuck you, asshole.’

The ex-vigilante shouldn’t have been able to sucker-punch John, but sucker-punch him he did, delivering a supersonic right hook that landed with an explosive crack that shook the entire area around the point of impact. John went flying into the air, although that was probably on purpose, moving the fight away from any potential collateral damage. Face-Off followed him.

So did Ali. She didn’t intend to break up the fight, at least not immediately. It might be best to let the two idiots blow off some steam hammering on each other. It should be safe enough; she was positive they could survive pretty much anything they dished out.

They were doing their level best to prove her wrong, though.

They grappled in the sky for a few seconds, trading jabs and head-butts before breaking free, opening up some distance between each other. Then they charged, two speeding bullets on a collision course. Even from half a mile away, the crash made Ali’s teeth vibrate. Hurricane-force winds washed over her as the two combatants bounced off each other and ended up a couple of miles apart. As soon as they regained control, they went at it again.

Another massive slam. And another. A flurry of punches at close range, followed by a third fly-apart and crash-together display of power and stupidity. Ali started to revise her assessment. They weren’t holding anything back. Someone was going to get hurt. Probably Face-Off, but even John couldn’t take that kind of battering indefinitely. This was getting ugly.

There was little she could do about it. Punching them out would just be adding to the carnage. Instead, she used her comm. This was a job for Freedom Squad One.

Even if a third of the team was busy trying to kill each other.