CHAPTER 24 - LEOPARD

A combination of exposure, time and experience had dulled Leopard to the more visceral aspects of fighting. Bullets could rip through the air around him, churn up the ground at his feet, and there’d be nothing to it other than an awareness that they were too close. Scope, sight, shoot—that was what Monkey always said. If you could do that faster than the other guy, empowered or not, then you’d get to walk away. It was almost comforting.

But the lead-up was something else. The apprehensive anticipation never became dull or comforting. Even if you were faster than the guy in front of you, you never heard the bullet that killed you. Somehow, Leopard still felt like the boy he had been so many years ago. Who was about to get into his first fight, take his first punch. Who was fearful of, and yet strangely curious, about how much it would hurt.

Not as much as he had feared.

It was a warm day, but overcast. That’d help a bit, less glare. A motley group of pigeons ambled about in front of him, eyeing his ration bar. Leopard took one more bite and then tossed it to them, wrapper and all. He wasn’t hungry, anyway, but it wasn’t a feeling you ever forgot. No matter how long it had been.

Across the construction site, Taurine was getting her people ready for the Citadel strike. She had a map of Alpha Block—the Citadel and surrounds—spread over the hood of a heavy truck, discussing the plan with her four unit leaders. Drawing up contingencies. One of them, Leopard knew, would involve taking the Animals out.

“She’s going to betray us,” Leopard said. “Safe bet.”

Next to him, Monkey nodded. “Probably, Spots. But she won’t do it while we’ve got our guns on her. And by the time we’re in the Citadel, she’s going to have way more pressing targets than us to worry about. The plan’ll work.”

Leopard grunted, vaguely in the affirmative. Monkey’s plan was solid enough. Despite its imposing presence at the center of the island, Asclepion’s Citadel had a fundamental weakness: it was open to the public.

It was like they had made it as a welcoming fortress, as much of an oxymoron as that seemed. One part seat of power, one part tourist trap. Somehow, it’d concocted an impenetrable reputation by being permeable. Or, perhaps, it was simply arrogance.

Or maybe it was something worse, something darker. Maybe it was intentional. There would be very few people, even hardened supervillains, who’d want to wade into a brawl where they might risk killing children out on a field trip. No one won by being blindly indiscriminate.

Well, except the Seven, Leopard thought. But trying to explain that group was like trying to find meaning in a hurricane. Leave that to their cults.

It was simple game theory, really. Monkey loved game theory. If the system was built around honor and honesty, as cape culture was, then you could crash the whole system by being dishonorable and dishonest. If the Citadel’s reputation truly rested atop its civilian shields, then the first person willing to put that to the test would win.

Leopard felt his thought process pause, his brain hiccup, like he’d crashed his whole mental system. Like a program error where the terms Monkey and dishonest were too close to each other. It wasn’t like they were targeting the civilians. If Star Patrol and the IESA and whoever else wanted to hide behind them then, any blood would be on their hands.

Wouldn’t it?

“Thinking about something over there, Spots?”

“Uh.” Leopard took a moment to get his thoughts together. “Just can’t believe we’re doing this, I think.”

“It’s not like we’re taking on the Concordiat.”

“Funny. Can’t take on something that doesn’t exist.”

Monkey laughed. “Easy, man, easy. Fine, I’ll settle with us being the very first people in the world to take the Citadel of Asclepion. Hell of a way to kick off our legend, right?”

Leopard nodded.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“Just nerves. Don’t worry about it.”

Monkey nodded. “Won’t be any different to the Lumberyard raid, you’ll see.”

“More capes, for one,” Leopard said. “With government training.”

“Taurine says there’s only two significant threats. Great Barrier and Defenda Eureka. And the latter’s suit is loaded up for police action, so...”

“And Barrier?”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Forcefields.”

“Defensive or offensive?”

“Probably defensive, but assume both. High Beta or a low Alpha. Exact D-rating’s classified.”

The hallmark of an Alpha-class cape—the ones they used to call ‘great’—was a general immunity towards whatever tools a normal person could bring to the table. If Great Barrier only just straddled the line, then there was room to maneuver against her.

“Anyway,” Monkey said, “the breakers will punch right through her forcefields. Bushranger’s got a standard brick package, but he’s weaker when he’s not on the home field. The rest are all b-teamers.”

Leopard nodded. He turned his eyes back towards Taurine and her briefing. Took a quick headcount. Her people were going to outnumber the Animals five to one.

No, six to one, he thought. Snake’s not here.

Monkey laughed at something. “Man, the Lumberyard... That was really something, right? Me and you and Tiger. One of our first big jobs. I don’t even remember why we thought it was a good idea.”

“I think we took it because it wasn’t a good idea.”

“That sounds like us. You know what I remember, though? Oh, what was his name… The guy with the jester’s hat, had a thing for knives.”

“Punchline.”

“Yeah, Punchline. That was it. Tiger was blasting away at their hideout while we moved in, and here he comes, right out of the second-story window, and you were standing right there.”

“Yeah.”

Monkey laughed. “And you said—”

“‘Didn’t stick the landing.’”

“And boom! You blew him away! Like a fucking action movie, man. You remember that?”

Leopard cast his mind back, or tried to.

“Yeah,” he said, lying. “I remember that.”

“I remember it,” Monkey said and, unlike his own perspective, Leopard knew it was true. The past was distant to Leopard, more so than the rest of the world was. It was just events that had happened, things he had survived. There didn’t seem to be any point to giving it any more significance than base accuracy.

Monkey reached into the truck behind them, through the open window, and withdrew a pair of beer bottles. He popped the cap off with the tip of his combat knife. “Want a drink?” he asked. “For luck.”

Leopard pointed to his helmet. “Already sealed.”

“Right,” Monkey replied. “More for me, then.”

Tiger came by, nodded to them both, and set her shotgun in the truck. She’d sourced grenades from somewhere—Taurine’s people, probably—and they jangled as she walked. Around her cigarette, she rasped, “You know, this is maybe the craziest shit we’ve ever done.”

“But you love it, right?” Monkey asked, and offered her a bottle. “Drink?”

Tiger took it, cracked it. “We’ve ever done,” she said. “I’ll tell you some stories sometime.”

She never did.

Tiger wandered off, probably to find more guns. Monkey’s gaze followed the back of her head.

After a moment, he asked: “You really think she’ll try something?”

Leopard shrugged. “She tweaked my instincts, and it’s been getting worse. I don’t know if losing Snake gave us more time or less.”

“Huh,” Monkey said. “Then we better have a contingency.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once we’re inside, all bets are off. Like you said, I don’t think we can count on Taurine upholding her end of the bargain. But the capes will keep her busy. Tiger’s another story, and she’ll be at our backs for the whole thing.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, man?”

Monkey nodded. “Once we’re done, once we’re flying out of here, we’re going to make sure there’re no sudden complications.”

He reached down to one of his holsters and drew one of his revolvers, flipping it about and holding it out to Leopard by the barrel. “Take this,” he said. “It’s always brought me luck.”

Leopard did so. It felt oddly heavy. He wasn’t sure he could handle the recoil. He popped the cylinder out, saw it loaded with armor-piercing rounds. “We might need it.”

“We’ll do better if we make our own,” Monkey said. “So, once we’ve gotten out of there, and the moment Tiger lets down her guard, I want you to take out that revolver, and shoot her in the head.”

Leopard swallowed.

“Sure,” he said.

Monkey nodded and returned to his drink. He drained it, then hurled it deeper into the construction site. The bottle shattered and the pigeons scattered to the winds. Leopard watched them go, feeling strangely disoriented.

“I’m doing the right thing,” Monkey said. “Just remember that for me, okay, Spots? Even when it’s hard. Whatever happens next. I’m doing the right thing.”

“You’re getting rather dark. It’s not like you.”

“It’s just these decisions.”

“About Tiger?”

“Sure,” Monkey said, sounding strangely distant, “and other things.”

Leopard nodded. It was a strange discussion, and not just because he’d been asked to murder a comrade-in-arms. In the decade they had known each other, worked together, had each other’s backs, had drunk together and fought together and bled together, they two of them had maybe one conversation about feelings.

So, for a time, silence.

“To the ends of the Earth and back again, man,” Leopard said. “Me and you.”

Monkey nodded. “Me and you.”

Taurine gave a shout. Then her people piled into their vehicles, and each one came alive with a roar like a beast awakening. Tiger came jogging towards their truck, with Rooster in her wake, one fist raised and turning a circle.

“Showtime,” Monkey said. “Mount up, people! It’s time to storm the gates of Hell and wipe our names from the Book of the Dead.”