CHAPTER 47 - LEOPARD

The waiting was the worst part of any job. Leopard always hated it, and this job was no different. It was a little more unsettling this time, however, given that he was pretty sure something had tried to reach into his brain.

So, he thought idly, looking at the IESA warning sign, cradling his rifle, perhaps it wasn’t just boilerplate after all. Not that he didn’t know that before, but there was a gap between knowledge and experience.

Leopard ran his tongue over his teeth, found them all still there, and waited for Sabra to return. Revenant stood on the other side of the SUV. He liked the fact she didn’t talk to him. Didn’t engage in meaningless small talk. But she was also one hell of a snag. If he was seriously going to track down Monkey and put this whole business behind him, then he’d need to be ready for her.

Come on, kid, Tiger said somewhere, shaking her head, you can’t still be serious about all this.

Something shifted in the foliage. Leopard turned, raising his rifle and taking aim, thumb set on the safety. Out came Defiant, walking slowly, and she looked haggard. However drained she looked, it went well beyond the physical exertion of trekking back toward sunlight.

“Hey, Defiant,” Leopard said. “You’re alive.”

She raised her head, looking at him and blinking.

“Yeah, guess so.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but maybe it hadn’t come out that way. “It went that badly, huh?” he asked, frowning. “What’d she say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing,” she said, climbing into the backseat of the SUV. “Didn’t even get to ask the question.”

Irritation flared along his back and shoulders. “Sabra,” Leopard said, “But that’s the whole reason we came here.”

“Just get in and drive, man.”

Leopard did so, stashing his rifle behind him. Revenant settled in the shotgun seat. He threw the car into reverse and turned about, heading for the road. Defiant set her head against the seat and shut her eyes.

“She didn’t let me ask it,” she said, “because someone already had.”

Monkey, Leopard thought, at the same time Revenant said it.

“So, he’s here,” Leopard said. “He’s really here.”

“You sound surprised,” Revenant said.

Defiant reached behind herself and pulled something out of her back pocket. An envelope—she held it out towards the front seat, to the two of them. There was a word scrawled in the front in Monkey’s messy handwriting. Spots.

“And I think this is proof,” Defiant said. “Spots, hey? Is that a nickname?”

“Yeah,” Leopard said. “Long story.”

“Wanna tell it?”

“Not really.”

“Well, Promethea said it’s for one of my friends from one of their friends. So, take it.”

Leopard kept one hand on the wheel and took the letter with delicate care. It felt like a hand grenade, the pin just pulled. It felt like one of Arachnicide’s spiders. It felt like a lifeline out of the depths. It felt like excuses. It felt like an explanation.

“Are you going to read it?” Defiant asked.

Was he? Leopard kept his eyes on the road. Of course he was, part of him knew. That part of him said it was taking all of his self-control to not rip the envelope open right now, like some salivating dog.

That metaphor had come from another part of him. A salivating dog eager for scraps and some modicum of attention. Pathetic, he heard, in Tiger’s voice. The letter was a weapon, another tactic. Why would Monkey abandon him, only to leave a letter with someone like Promethea? It might not even be from him. After all, how would he have known that he would have been followed?

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Yes, how did he know? that first part of him said, And why would he write it if he had truly wished to betray you?

Leopard’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.

“No,” he said. “I don’t care what he has to say to me. He said everything worth saying when he left me to die.”

But even he could hear, in his tone of voice and his thoughts, that the matter wasn’t so simple.

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Tiger was still out of it when they got back to the hideout. Leopard sat in the kitchen and watched her breathe. Defiant had gone out for a run, and Revenant went off to do whatever it was a robot did when she was alone. Impel’s attention was on the news. The letter sat in the inner pocket of his jacket, heavy and all-consuming, like a black hole that even his awareness could not escape.

He didn’t know what to do or say. The plan to reunite with Monkey had seemed as bright and obvious as the sun. He had to escape; he had to reunite; he had to warn him. There wasn’t just a Syndicate hit team after him, but a SOLAR one, too. With a robot and power armor and Tiger.

His eyes wandered to her again. If only they’d left her behind. If only Defiant and Revenant hadn't saved her life, then there'd be one less complication. If only she had the temerity to die, it would’ve made everything easier. The realization that he was entertaining such a thought made him want to vomit. Outside, the sun crept down towards the horizon. Leopard pulled the envelope out from under his jacket and looked at it, turning it over in his hands. Maybe Monkey hadn’t written it—but who else had ever called him Spots?

Something beeped, loud and shrill. Leopard’s attention snapped to it. There stood Defiant, pulling something out of the microwave. It smelled good. Leopard wasn’t hungry.

“Easy, man,” she said. “It’s just me.”

“Hey, Defiant.”

“Y’know, you called me Sabra earlier,” she replied, smiling. “Guess you’re slipping up, hey, tough guy?”

“Guess so.”

Then she was gone. Leopard returned his attention to the letter. Revenant came through to check on Tiger’s condition, then left without a word. Soon after, in came Impel. “Jack,” he said, “May I join you?”

“Sure,” Leopard said.

Impel sat down.

“Sabra told me you got a letter. I haven’t seen one of those in years.”

Leopard drew it closer to his chest. “Yeah.”

“Who’s it from?”

“I think you know.”

“Ah,” Impel said, and went silent.

They sat there for a time. After a long while, Impel said, “Jack, listen to me. There’s nothing in that letter that he would’ve ever told you himself.”

“You don’t know that,” Leopard said, and he hated how he sounded. “Sometimes it’s easier to write things down than to say them.”

“Then just means it’s even easier to lie.”

“But why would he send it just to lie to me?” Leopard asked. “Why go to all that trouble?”

Impel sighed. Leopard could see himself through the man’s eyes. Simpering, pathetic, unable to comprehend the truth of the matter. Unable to understand that he could’ve asked that question at so many points before now, and maybe saved him and everyone else so much trouble.

“He’s not a bad person,” Leopard said, as much to himself as to Impel. “He’s not.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one.”

He was the only one who could ever see it. He was the only one who knew that Monkey’s brand of mischievous impulse over reason wasn’t a problem. He wasn’t a chaotic, selfish monster. It was all just an act, just a mask. Just like all the empowered heroes wore. Just like he wore.

Christ, kid, his imaginary Tiger said, you’ve not had a single goddamn piece of shit sincere conversation with him—ever! And you consider him your best friend. He betrayed you, and you can’t understand it because you thought yourself beyond reproach. Well, you weren’t. Sorry, kid.

“Jack,” Impel said, “You okay over there?”

Leopard cleared his throat. It was like someone had jammed a hand grenade down it. “Impel,” he said. “You had a partner, didn’t you? Mark.”

“Yeah,” he replied, wary.

“You said Taurine killed him.”

“Something like that.”

Leopard nodded. “Put yourself in my shoes,” he said. “Imagine that Mark had written a letter before he died. You’d want to read it, wouldn’t you? No matter what it said. You’d want closure.”

Impel was silent. Leopard finally looked at him. He could see the decisions playing out over his face, in his eyes and at the corner of his mouth. Impel’s nostrils flared. He knew what he was thinking, what he should say and what he would say, and that the former was a lie. So, he said nothing.

“If Taurine had given me a letter to give you to from Mark,” Leopard said, forcing the issue, “Wouldn’t you read it?”

“You’re a bastard,” Impel said.

Finally, anger. Leopard could deal with anger. “It’s a world of bastards. So tell me. You’d read it, wouldn’t you?”

Impel shook his head and stormed to his feet. By the time he’d reached the doorway to the living room, his anger had cooled, and he turned back.

“Fine,” he said. “Yeah. Yes. Ultimately, I would’ve done anything to read such a letter—are you happy? Goodnight, Jack.” He practically spat the words.

That helped, too. They all hated him. It was all an act. They’d use him to get to Monkey, and then they’d kill him, and then they’d kill him, too. All he was to them was a bloodhound. A dog. An animal.

Leopard waited for one more second, then tore the envelope open. He pulled the letter out and unfolded it. And then, he began to read.