CHAPTER 51 - LEOPARD

Years before, before they’d taken their new names, Leopard had told Monkey that the most powerful person in any fortress was the one who controlled the gate. He hadn’t been referring to Gate—indeed, they hadn’t even known he existed. It was odd to find out that Monkey had remembered those words, and taken them so literally.

On the edge of the abyss, Leopard watched one of Monkey’s men beat Gate with the stock of his rifle and drive him to his knees. Gate glowered up at him and Monkey with open contempt. His cropped hair was matted with dried blood. Compliant, but not broken.

How had Monkey even managed to subdue him? Gate was one of the most prominent members of the Syndicate. And yet there he was, nothing but a useful mule, dragged along for his ability to create trans-dimensional doorways.

“So, Spots,” Monkey said, reaching for his solitary revolver, “Want to do the honors?”

“How did you even...”

“Gate, as smart as he is, forgot the first rule of arming a mercenary—be damn sure you know where they’ll point their weapons.”

Gate opened his mouth, and Monkey whipped him with his pistol. Gate grunted, spitting blood to the side. It was so bright against the orange earth. “Remember what I said, Gate? That if I was going to betray you, I’d do a better job of it? Well, here it is.”

Leopard wasn’t given to feeling. It was one of the things that the presence of the glass wall inured him against. He certainly didn’t feel sympathy for Gate. But still, seeing him like that, bruised and bloody and beaten, brought everything into stark clarity.

Arachnicide and the others hadn’t been sent to find him and Tiger—they’d been sent to find Monkey, because Monkey had Gate. It wasn’t a hunt; it was a rescue mission. After all, they hadn’t even known who Sabra was! With Gate in his pocket, Monkey could step out of the null zone and go anywhere, do anything.

Monkey held his revolver out to Leopard. “So, want to put one between his eyes and kick him over the edge?”

Gate stared at him without a trace of fear. Leopard wasn’t sure he could be so defiant in the face of death. He wondered if Sabra could.

“No,” Leopard said.

“And why’s that?” Monkey asked.

“Because he’s more useful to us alive than dead.”

“I suppose so,” Monkey replied, and Leopard had the thought that maybe it had been a test. “He’s useful—for now. But he’ll become a liability at some point. Then, we’re going to need to take this old dog out into the fields, put the gun right here—” He pressed the barrel of his revolver between Gate’s eyes, “—and just blow the motherfucker away. Better than he deserves, really, but we’re not monsters.”

Gate spat at Monkey’s boot. Monkey nodded like he's said something and whipped him again, sending him into the dirt.

“Take him back to his cell,” Monkey said. “Don’t look so upset, Gate, my friend—it’s just business.”

Leopard watched them drag Gate away. Monkey slipped his revolver back into its holster. It occurred to Leopard that he had never asked about the matching number. His own words echoed in his ears. Monkey turned back and looked back over the mining pit.

“Do you know why I hate them, Spots?” He gestured to the mine. “Because they can do this. Because you give man these unbelievable powers, but you don’t give it to the people who’ll fix anything, do you? No, you give it to all the assholes who’ll put on some stupid dog and pony show for all the idiots who are happy to get scraps.”

Leopard nodded, unsure of what to say.

“People actually believe the IESA wants to fix the world,” Monkey said. “But look at this—look at this! The IESA doesn’t want to fix the world. They want to leave it as it is. With all of their capes, they have a monopoly on power. And everyone just cheers them on. But nothing changes, unless we make it change.”

I’m here for reconnaissance, Leopard thought, again and again. And the fact that he had to remind himself of that was proof he’d underestimated Monkey’s charisma—or overestimated his ability to resist it.

“It’s time to send a message, Spots.”

“We can’t do that with twenty people,” Leopard said. “Not with fifty. The IESA might have capes, but the world has soldiers, tanks, combat mechs, supercarriers...”

“There are ways to even the playing field, buddy. But that comes later—for now, we’ll start small. With that SOLAR team you mentioned.”

Leopard felt the warmth drain from his face.

“I want you to call them. I want you to lure them here and tell them we’re in the truck shop. Then we’re going to kill them, and the world will see that their gods are as mortal as anyone else.”

“They might not believe me,” Leopard said, his voice hoarse, hoping that his helmet disguised it.

“They will,” Monkey said. “It’s why you’re here.”

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So, he walked away from Monkey and made the call. When he hung up, he dragged his fingers across his scalp and screamed until he felt his lungs would collapse. He fell to his knees, pounding at the dirt with his fists. It was like his body wanted to cry, but his brain wouldn’t let him.

He’d fucked it all up. His plan had been to get as much information as possible, then to return and explain his treachery, and he’d lured the others into a trap. The silver lining, as thin as it was, was that Monkey didn’t know what he knew. That Monkey didn’t know that Leopard’s hope was that the trap would fail.

But if he was prepared for a SOLAR team, what hope did their motley crew have?

Leopard fought to control his breathing, and reconstructed his glassy wall piece by piece. He marched back towards the machine shop, and it felt like he was falling towards his reckoning. At the end of the day, someone would be dead.

Maybe it’d be him.

There had to be more he could do. Some way to redeem himself. Some way to balance the scales. Monkey had to know that the Syndicate or SOLAR would track him down eventually, and even fifty people with capebreakers would fail if someone really wanted him dead. Monkey had to have a trump card, because he always had a trump card. He had to have found his weapon.

But what was it?

Leopard double-timed it back to the machine shop. He took the steps two at a time and burst through the door. There Monkey stood, and something long and covered by a blanket lay across his desk.

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“It’s done,” Leopard said. “They’ll be here in an hour.”

“Good. We’ll be waiting for them. Thank you, Spots.”

Leopard licked his lips and nodded. He felt his fingers twitch. He saw himself raising his pistol, imagined having the strength of will to squeeze the trigger. It was his closure. He had to do it. It had to be him.

But he just asked, “What makes you think we can take on a whole SOLAR team?”

“One hundred years ago,” Monkey said, “there was this idea called nuclear deterrence. The thought was that if everyone had nuclear weapons, then no one would go to war. And, y’know what, it worked—well, until the Collapse, but that was more of a cape-related issue.”

“And now instead of nukes, it’s capes. But we can’t count on Gate to help us.”

“I know,” Monkey said. “And even if he did, he wouldn’t do much good. The IESA has a monopoly on the strongest capes, and they maintain it ruthlessly. That makes them tyrants. The Functioning World has to play by their rules—the mandatory tests, the regulations, the Global Security Act, SOLAR itself. The Imperials and the Concordiat are the only ones who can challenge them, and they don’t. Because they benefit from the status quo, too. But there’s something they all fear. A power that they can’t control—this.”

Monkey ripped the blanket away from his desk, and revealed his weapon.

It was a simple black quarterstaff—crystalline and seamless, like someone had carved it from a single, perfect monolith of obsidian. It was topped with a symbol Leopard didn’t recognize—a circle with three bars—and the other end tapered into an impaling point. Something shimmered inside it, like viridian smoke, writhing softly like something sleeping, something alive.

Leopard felt himself step back.

“You found it.”

“Don’t be afraid, Spots,” Monkey said. “It’s just a thing. A relic. Something The Engineer built and left behind. With these, we’ll bring IESA to the table. By unlocking the secrets of The Engineer’s technology, we can change the world. We can start healing it!”

There were stories about the Transcended and the things they left behind. Monkey thought IESA policed them because they were a threat to their power. Maybe he was right. Or maybe their totems and artifacts were as apocalyptic as their creators, and as jealously guarded. Had The Engineer been as blind as anyone else, with his staff hidden under the barrier?

What would he do when he realized they had it? Another Shanghai—or something worse?

“We’ll break the back of this cape-based power structure,” Monkey said, blue eyes shining. “This staff will be a beacon to everyone who has suffered like we did. The IESA will listen, or they will watch as their world crumbles around them.”

Leopard’s vision spun. Monkey had always talked about changing the world and revolution and tearing down the IESA. Leopard realized, as his eyes wandered to the staff again, he’d have preferred self-delusion and moral grandstanding to something like this. But how could he tell the difference?

“And then what?” Leopard asked. “You’ll be at the top of this new pyramid?”

Monkey gave his self-effacing, it-can’t-be-helped shrug. “We both will be. Like we always wanted.” For a moment, Leopard thought he looked hurt—or maybe it was his imagination.

He remembered saying that, long ago. But that had been years before and, if he was honest, it’d been a lie. He’d only said he desired power because Monkey obviously did, and to break that bond for something as intangible as morals seemed incomprehensible.

But here and now, it was clear that the bond wasn’t there—and maybe it never had been. It hurt, but it was a relief, too. His friend was gone, and in his place was something horrific. Or perhaps that horrific thing had always been there, and only absence had made it clear to him.

But there was still one last question.

“Does it work?” Leopard asked. “Have you tested it?”

“But of course, man,” Monkey said, grinning like it was all a joke. “What do you think happened to that mining rig?”

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The reckoning crept closer, minute by minute, second by second. With five minutes until the ordained time, Monkey stepped out of his office, The Engineer’s staff in his hand, and onto the gantry which overlooked the floor of the machine shop. Leopard stood at his side, sweating, and it wasn’t from the heat.

Where had he even found it? In that strange place, the dead zone within the null zone? What had Revenant said—two of the Seven had come to blows, and one of them had impaled the other? Had Monkey been so galling, so brave, so stupid to clamber up the fallen titan and rip the weapon free?

Or had it been there, waiting for him?

On the main floor below, Leopard counted ten men and women in their combat gear. That left about half of them unaccounted for. Had Monkey warned them? Surely he had. The rest of them would be scattered across the mining complex. Monkey might’ve wanted his enemies to think he was unprepared.

Leopard’s hand drifted towards Monkey’s lost revolver. It didn’t feel like enough. It only occurred to him now that he’d left his rifle in the office. Well, that wasn’t a problem. One person in the right place with a simple handgun could change history forever.

“You okay, man?” Monkey asked. “You seem out of it.”

“I forgot how hot it can get out here. But I realized something, too.”

“What’s that?”

“That I’m glad to be here,” he said. “I really am.”

Monkey nodded. “I’m glad to have you here, buddy. Just between us, you’re making me feel much better about our chances.” Etheric emerald light pulsed up the length of the staff. “And... there’s something else I should’ve said earlier, but it skipped my mind.”

Leopard’s heart leapt into his throat. Maybe, just maybe, Monkey was going to say it. The one thing he had come all this way to hear. The one thing he knew might derail everything that was about to happen. “Oh?”

“Yeah. What happened to Sam?”

His heart crashed back into his chest, and froze over.

“She took an energy bolt to the side,” Leopard said, numb once more. “Chewed up her whole torso. She didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Monkey said, and there was no expression on his face. “Well, at least that loose end is taken care of.”

Something hummed in the distance, growing closer. Another few seconds and Leopard could hear a beat, a rhythm.

“Say,” he said, reaching for the grip of his revolver, “Do you hear music?”

Defiant burst through the walls of the machine shed, armored and ready to fight, music blaring. She slid to a stop across the concrete slab, struck a fighter’s pose as every rifle in the building snapped to her. Revenant dropped through the ceiling, molten metal heralding her passage, for a perfect three-point landing—half of the rifles snapped to her.

Monkey opened his mouth to say something and stopped as he realized that he had his own lost revolver trained between his eyes. Defiant cut her music and the machine shop settled into an uneasy, silent stand-off.

“Spots,” Monkey said, but he didn’t dare move a muscle. “What’re you doing, buddy?”

“Taking responsibility,” Leopard replied. “I can’t let you go on. You’ll never stop.”

“You came all this way to kill me? Do you hate me that much?”

“Hate?” And, for a moment, Leopard considered his thoughts and his feelings and found, amid the shattered glass of his private barrier, only sadness and loss and regret.

“No,” he said. “In fact, I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to do this—that I’d become your friend again. I loved you. Do you understand that? Because I didn’t, not until I read that fucking letter. You were my brother, and I loved you so much. I loved you!”

“Spots.”

“But we love the dogs we put down, too, don’t we?” Leopard swallowed, took a breath, and drew himself up an extra inch or two. “So, tell your people to stand down and surrender the staff, or I’m going to shoot you in the head. I will not ask again.”

“That’s not happening,” Monkey said, an edge to his voice. “You might have that cyborg with you, but the odds are still ten to one against, and these aren’t SOLAR capes. So, put the gun down, and we can put this all behind us. I love you too, man. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You already put me behind you. It’s funny. I think if you had just apologized for leaving me for dead, for betraying me, then I wouldn’t have been able to do this. But you can't, can you? You can't just say it. You and your fucking ego.”

“Spots, did you ever ask yourself why I did it?” Monkey shifted his feet, coiling to spring. “If you just calmed down and thought this through, used that damn brain of yours, you’d see that there’s no apology I need to give.”

“Maybe,” Leopard said, shrugging the shoulder on the far side of Monkey, keeping his aim true. “But here’s the thing, Elias: payback’s an unreasonable bitch.”

He squeezed the trigger.