Whoso comes from the dark ... - Part 6
An intense heat rose from the shaft, a sign that something continued to burn down there and, with all the weaponry, machinery and equipment, she expected it would burn for some time. Down there, somewhere, lay Kyle's body and she wanted to jump down and dig him out. She doubted she would get anywhere close. Fiend had won. They had killed someone close to her and it wouldn't end there.
"Caitlyn?" The ear piece crackled and Caitlyn snapped up to her knees, touching her ear, disbelieving what she had heard. "Are you there?"
"Kyle? Kyle!" Beneath her mask, the tears that rolled down her cheeks were no longer through loss. "Where are you? I can dig you out. I can ... just tell me where you are!"
"I'm fine. Well, no, not fine, actually. I'm pretty banged up but, apart from that, I'm fine. Ow! Ow! Not fine! Not fine! Painkillers, man! Drone! Whatever. Painkillers!" Kyle shouted at someone, but he really did sound fine. As fine as someone thrown down an elevator shaft could feel, she guessed. "Yeah. Fear's a member of Bastion. Strictly speaking, I'm not allowed to use the transporters, but, in an emergency ... Damn it! Get your medical protocols checked! Listen, I'm going to pass out now, but ..."
The connection turned silent and Caitlyn didn't care that Kyle hadn't finished talking. He was alive and that was all that mattered. He was alive and that meant that Fiend had failed. Failed and had possibly given Caitlyn an advantage. For all Fiend knew, Pho-Boy had died and, dependant on how fast Kyle healed, that could prove a mistake that could come back to haunt the villain.
-+-
A little later ...
She hadn't expected Chief Watson to come himself. Using the number he had given her, she thought he would be able to organise FDNH, the police and anyone else they needed to contain the fire below the warehouse, faster than if she had called nine-one-one herself. In fairness to her judgement, he had worked fast and Caitlyn watched from above as the professionals took care of the damage caused below.
After a while, it looked like Chief Watson wasn't needed any longer, getting back into his car and heading out of the wharf district. Caitlyn followed, jumping from roof to roof, making the occasional swing, fast-floating some of the way, until the Chief reached a quiet enough area where she doubted anyone could observe them.
"Excuse me, does this bus take me to Central and Buscema, or is that the number fourteen?" Landing on the roof of the car, with now practiced silence, Caitlyn peered inside. The Chief looked weird, all upside down and panicking. "Should I walk? It's probably just as easy to walk."
"You ... you maniac! You could have killed us both!" He slammed on the brakes and Caitlyn allowed the momentum to carry her beyond the car, tumbling to a halt in front of the headlights. "Now I need a cigarette."
Stumbling from the car, clutching his chest, Chief Watson took a cigarette from the pack with shaking fingers as Caitlyn leapt back on to the roof of the car. It gave her the advantage of making him look up at her. Far better than being the one intimidated by a cop as she returned to consciousness. A lot had happened since that day.
"Those things'll kill you." She spun around, sitting down on the roof and dangling her kicking legs over the side. "Speaking of things killing you, I have, like, this arch-nemesis, or something, who is totally trying to kill me, but not before they've killed all my friends and family? Oh, and they framed me! Not for anything too bad, well, not yet, but, still. And could you, perhaps, let it slip that you found the corpse of Pho-Boy down in the ruins of that warehouse, because that would be so helpful."
That was a lot of words! She wasn't one for talking too much, usually. Whenever she changed into this suit, though, it was like some invisible barrier fell away, allowing her to be far more outgoing than usual. Not as much as Kyle, he appeared to talk non-stop all the time. That was simply just who he was and she still got a little thrill when she remembered he had survived. He wasn't her type, but she was totally going to kiss him next time she saw him.
"I am not fabricating evidence! Not for you, or anyone!" He still hadn't lit the cigarette, waving his hands around as he talked. He paused, taking the cigarette from his mouth. "But, I suppose, we could withhold some information. Make some vague implications. That's the best I can do, but you'll owe me."
"Cool!" Caitlyn lifted her arm, ready to show off to Chief Watson her knew grapple thing, but realised there was nowhere high enough to grapple. Fast-floating it would have to be.
"Hey, kid?" Before he got back into his car, Chief Watson paused, looking up to Caitlyn as she hovered above. "How are you doing? This stuff, superheroing, it comes with a burden, a heavy price, sometimes. I know. Black Staff had his problems, believe me. Listen, you ever need to talk, you got my number. Okay?"
That was nice of him, but Caitlyn would have to talk about things and people that would give away her identity and, as she had learned over the past few weeks, the slightest wrong word could cause the greatest problems. Before, had she had any things she needed to get off her chest, she could turn to Alaina, but that relationship had soured.
The next person she could talk to was Kyle, but she had no way of knowing how badly injured he was, or whether she could talk to him any time soon. She couldn't talk to Rayna about anything but normal stuff. She could talk about school, home life, whether they really could go on a date ... no! Not that! But, still, normal stuff to talk about with rich-but-normal, super-hot-and-rich-but-kinda-normal girl. Maybe she could confide in the Chief?
"Thanks." Not tonight, though. Tonight, Caitlyn had to get home, have a bath that stayed hot until the morning and, maybe, a few weeks worth of sleep. Even her bruises had bruises.
-+-
Ald-Tech headquarters ...
The office was almost pitch black. Only the lights from the sprawling city, below, broke the darkness and Raymond shifted, lifting himself up from his leather, high-backed chair. The headache had mostly dissipated, only a dull throb in the back of his skull a reminder of the pain he had felt. He rubbed the bridge of his nose before switching on the table lamp and looking across the room to the wall.
He saw no light beneath that wall. Not anymore and he hesitated before edging around his desk. Through the window, he could see the city streets, where line upon line of car head and tail lights snaked their way between business buildings, skirting far from the square in front of his building. A building that he thought he knew down to its bones and foundations. He had dragged this building up from nothing, as he had dragged Ald-Tech up from nothing.
What he had found behind that wall, however, was something he knew nothing about. A secret panel hiding ... what? The memory had started to turn hazy. Vague recollections of barbaric toys, weapons. Of some kind of board, like a surf board, but wider, with stirrups and a handle. The statue, beside the wall, no longer tilted and he hovered his hand above it.
Not one to hold back on much, if anything, he tilted the statue back and something clicked. That felt a little familiar. As did the sight of the wall receding inward and then sliding to the side, revealing ... a hidden drinks cabinet, stacked with all the best bottles money could buy, with crystal glass tumblers, shot glasses, brandy glasses and champagne flutes upon the lowest shelf. A bucket, filled with fresh ice, sat to the side and Raymond began to worry for his sanity.
Something was happening here. Something very wrong and happening under his very nose inside his company. He knew what he had seen! He wasn't going mad! Or, at least, he hoped he wasn't.
-+-
Bastion satellite, high above the Earth ...
Principle was right, she could never, ever get used to this. Not only the sight of the Earth, far below, or the never-ending emptiness of space in the other direction, but also the sheer size of the satellite. Bastion must have money to burn and that made her a little envious. She and her aunt lived in a tiny, two-bedroom apartment that they could only afford thanks to the pension Aunt Mary received. Up here, they could fit a hundred of those apartments.
The drone bobbed and weaved in front of her, leading her along corridors that two lines of traffic could drive down. Not Drone, of course, but one of the technological hero's proxy drones, but Caitlyn couldn't help but wonder how much of the real Drone still remained in these copies. She had seen a number of the drones, flitting around since she had arrived. Enough to run this entire place in the ongoing absence of the heroes of Bastion.
At the door to the medical bay, she paused and the drone hovered forward a few more feet before stopping and turning its single eye toward her. She saw the eye focus, in suspicion, or amusement? Possibly both. In there, she would see what had happened with Kyle. They hadn't known each other long, but she had come to like him. He had a great, easy-going demeanour, never seeming to let anything get him down, but he had been coy about his injuries.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and continued on to the medical bay. The drone shifted to the side to allow her inside and, as she looked around, her breath caught in her throat. Kyle, laid on the bed, had an arm and a leg in casts, raised up by slings. One of his eyes was still closed, black and puffy, and one side of his face had a nasty burn. And yet, he still smiled.
"Hey! Blood! Caitlyn! Oh, this?" He looked down at his body and made a painful shrug of his shoulders. "It's far worse than it looks. Wait. No. The other way around. It looks far worse than it is. Seriously, that one time that I died, I was, like, just a dried up husk. I got better."
"This is all my fault!" She reached out to touch the cast on his arm and pulled back her hand. "There ... there's writing on here. It says 'Your blood oxygen levels are pleasing - Medical drone three'. You have a robot signing your cast because of me!"
"Hey. Hey! Don't cry. The drones will want to run psychological tests. And maybe an enema. You do not want that, trust me." Despite everything, he still grinned. That was a hero, not a blubbering child so far out of her depth. "Besides, you can't plan how to get Fiend if you're crying. I may not be able to help you in a fight, but I can certainly help you to fight. I have ideas."
With his uninjured hand, Kyle reached to a tablet on the bedside table, winking as he switched it on. He had ideas, but Caitlyn had guilt. She doubted anything Kyle could say could make her forgive herself. Until she saw the plans on the tablet. The boy was almost as much of a genius as her.