***ALEX***
Harlan greets me and Annie outside the morgue, but stops us before we can go in. "It's a madhouse in there," he says, gesturing through the Plexiglas panels on the sliding doors, which don't automatically open in response to our approach. Beyond the Plexiglas, two bunny-suited morgue attendants run around trying to vacuum what remains of Freddie's body. Most of the upper body is gone - pretty much only the legs are left.
"Holy shit, I really did that?" I look at my own hands, grateful that I got them cleaned of nanites as quickly as possible, but still regretting the damage I've done to Freddie. I think he deserved that even less than he deserved to die again.
"It's all right," Harlan says. "You didn't know."
"Doesn't make me any less guilty."
The attendants finish their vacuum work, then open the door and beckon us in. "Sorry we had to...wait, didn't you bring the body down to us?" The lead attendant - I say that only because he's the older of the two - removes his hood, revealing his face without the glare of the lights on the plastic face shield blocking it. "You should get yourself checked for necrophages-"
"Already did. I'm clean."
"Hmm. I'm still gonna advise you to really Purell up, just in case."
"Purell wouldn't kill the 'phages, though." The younger attendant removes his hood, revealing a face that reminds me way too much of Jimmy Palmer. (At least his superior doesn't bear a close resemblance to Ducky, otherwise I'd have to wonder if I accidentally stepped onto some other world's version of the NCIS set.) "It'd have a similar effect to what booze does to us, actually."
"Speaking from experience?" asks Annie.
"Mm-hmm. I did an internship at Immortals Image Works before I switched majors. Got to see them building the 'phages. Really old models like these, probably even had the same defects..." He checks the tank of his vacuum, which is transparent. "Of course, I'd have to stick one under the microscope to confirm, but...you know, for some reason, I'm thinking these nanites are Immortals designs."
"Nah," Harlan says.
"If anything," I say, "it's probably Peppermint."
Annie raises her eyebrows. "You said Immortals Image Works? Hey, be careful with that!"
Everyone backs away from the younger attendant as he opens the vacuum's tank. He sticks a pen inside until the very tip is coated with a thin but noticeable layer of black, buzzing nanites.
I can't repress a shudder at the sound of it. "Reminds me of bees."
"I know." The older attendant edges a little further away from his colleague. "Thank God they're not. I'm allergic." He eyeballs a medical bag sitting on a desk in the corner - probably containing his EpiPen if he needs it.
"People still have allergies in the afterlife?" I ask.
"I'm a natural-born scriv, and that doesn't make me any more perfect than you, Primer."
Annie clears her throat. "Immortals Image Works? You sure they made these nanites?"
"Probably," says the younger attendant as he coats a glass slide with nanites and sticks it into the nearest microscope. "Isn't it true that one of their old designers runs Peppermint, though? Could be them too."
"I don't think Alicia Wahlberg runs Peppermint, per se," says Harlan. "She's just really big in their design department, and from what I hear, she's a massive geek too. I've wanted to meet her for a long time."
"Why, so you can bang her?" asks the younger attendant.
"Don't put sex on my brain, please," Harlan mutters. "I'm in no shape to deal with a boner right now."
Mercifully, the younger attendant shuts up on that subject right away. "Okay, zoom in...yeah. Yeah, these nanites are Immortals, which explains why they're so old and defective."
"Which means...?" I ask.
"I'm gonna call in a BOLO on Alicia Wahlberg." Annie pulls her phone out of her pocket.
"Not in here," the older attendant says, barely looking up. "There's next to no cell reception in here. Strictly Wi-Fi."
"Don't need cell reception..." Annie taps her phone for a moment, then shakes her head. "Wait a minute, no Wi-Fi either? What gives?"
"Give it a sec." The older attendant turns on his own laptop. "You'll get used to...hey, I have no Wi-Fi either. What's going on?" He clicks it a couple of times, probably trying to configure the Wi-Fi.
My Spidey-senses tingle nastily. "They're coming," I breathe. "Peppermint."
"I think you're right." Harlan backs up to the door, darking up his hands with elemental brass knuckles. "What do they want? There's no body for them to take now...it must be the nanites. They're cleaning up their mess. That, or they're here to get Penner."
"Where is he, anyway?"
"In a bed somewhere one or two stories over our heads."
I copy Harlan's stance, icing up my own knuckles. Then I approach the delivery door, through which I came in to help deliver Freddie only a few minutes ago. Heavy sheets of translucent plastic are the only barrier between this morgue and the semi-subterranean loading dock beyond. Not much for protection, and given that I'd have to look through the plastic to get an idea of who's coming and when, it's a tactical nightmare even to this novice.
Well, someone has to take the risk.
I poke my head through one of the gaps in the plastic and see a woman dragging a hand truck laden with a long cardboard box. Her back is turned, but I see that she's a tall brunette who somehow projects confidence even when moving a heavy load.
I almost don't notice her turning around and shooting lightning from her hands to the nearest circuit-breaker box until it's too late.
Darkness descends on us, then red lights and sirens go off. "Over here!" I wave Harlan and Annie over - and the attendants, if they're in any shape to fight. Maybe they don't have much practice, and they're probably pretty firm believers in the "do no harm" section of the Hippocratic Oath (the only part I know, so don't go by me), but if they're anything like me, their belief in self-defense is less firm and more rock-hard.
Our lady invader illuminates the scene better than the red lights do, with her crackling lightning sparking all around her. Her face, already lighter-skinned than her long dark hair suggested when she had her back turned, shines like the full moon, with flashes of lunar-eclipse red every couple of seconds when the emergency lights really hit her.
"You know what they say," Harlan comments from my right. "Never meet your idols. Now that I know Peppermint's a bunch of evil assbutts, should've known you'd be one of them too."
"You say 'evil,' I say 'experimental.'" She grins, her teeth shining blindingly as they reflect her lightning. "But you know my name? I wasn't aware they put me on the Peppermint calendar."
"I made one myself. There's enough pictures of you floating around on the internet to compile it. Next month's my favorite - it's the one where you're dressed as a mummy for Halloween."
"That's Shishio, shit-for-brains." She glares at him. "If you'd really made a calendar of me - and thank God you didn't, 'cause I can't abide frog-faced pervs - you would've known that."
Harlan winces at the insult, but otherwise lets it slide. "Who the hell is Shishio?"
She gasps, putting her hand on her heart. "I'll pretend you didn't just say that."
I know who she's talking about, but I can't resist teasing her with a bastardized 80s classic as only I can deliver it. "There's a creep who's been on my mind, all the time! Shi-shi-shishio, whoa-oh!" The whole time, I further channel my inner Star-Lord by dancing on up to her, goofy as fuck, cutting a rug and laying down ice in its place. Not to mix my metaphors too much. But seriously, she's now got a field of ice right in front of her feet. Long enough to span the majority of the room, and wide enough that she can't just step over it. Good luck crossing this barrier, lady. Whatever your name is, because I'm pretty sure only Harlan knows it.
"Funny you should ask," she says. "I'm Alicia Wahlberg, and you're gonna want to unmake that ice trap, 'cause I'm not leaving until I get my friend Simon out of here."
"Who now?" Then it clicks for me, because I keep thinking of Penner's last name first. "Oh yeah. What, is he your boyfriend?"
"Just a friend," says Wahlberg. "My Bug Bro, you know? The Spider-Man to my Ant-Man."
I scoff at her. "If those two were bad guys."
"Yeah," Annie chimes in. "And you know, Penner killed the guy who really looks like Spider-Man."
"Not Troirai?" Alicia looks horrified, but her expression is so over the top it's got to be fake.
"Russell," Harlan spits. "Our brother."
"Not his." Alicia points at me, her lightning arcing over the ice I've blocked her with and coming very close to striking me.
I barely flinch, though. "If there's one thing I learned from years of Pokémon as a kid," I say, "it's that Ice-type moves aren't as weak to Electric types as Water-type moves. So don't worry - I won't go easy on you."
"Pokémon," Alicia repeats. "So complicated. Why do they not make Ice types vulnerable to Electric? Ice counts as water too!" She forks out a real Thundershock-type attack - I'm surprised her lightning's still white and not Pikachu yellow - forcing me to pull up some of the ice I've lain on the ground and form myself a shield.
Oops. That leaves her an opening. But you know what? I don't just have ice at my disposal, and frankly, I think it's lazy that I keep resorting to it. When was the last time I went with a steam attack? Not counting when Luca and/or Kyle melt my ice in elemental combat class, I'll have to go with...never?
Since I've already broken the ice barrier blocking Alicia, I might as well whip up the rest of it and melt it, then boil it. I wrap the vapor around her, watching as lightning zaps out through it, creating temporary gaps in the steam. But she isn't doing herself any good as far as uncovering her eyes. Which is good, because now Harlan and Annie can slide around behind Alicia, unseen by her, and lash out with their own dark attacks which penetrate the steam.
"Oh, sorry," Annie says when she parts the steam to show that her own dark energy is covering Alicia's mouth. "You've got something on your face."
Alicia screams at her, the sound muffled by the strip of darkness coating her mouth.
Harlan, meanwhile, wraps a shiny black elemental whip around Alicia's wrist, interrupting the near-endless flow of electricity from its attached hand. "I swear to God I'm not getting off on this. I actually like being the one who gets tied up, not the other way around."
"I can't know that!" Annie almost strikes Harlan with her own dark whip as she wraps it around Alicia's other wrist.
I wave the steam away from Alicia's face, condense it back to liquid water, and gently tap the dark band over her mouth with it. Because it's powdery scriv darkness and not solid duct tape, it washes away with surprising speed. "You know what I hate?" I ask. "I hate it when I meet an evil person who doesn't look evil."
"Is that supposed to be some kind of backhanded compliment?"
"Yep. Sting in the tail. My brother and I are masters of the fine art of giving praise in scorpion form."
"Hmm. And I thought you were a nice boy, respecting a woman enough to look her in the eyes and not the tits."
"Considering how bad I am at making eye contact..." I keep on fixing her eyes with my own gray stare. "You should consider yourself blessed. Helps that I'm a sucker for brown-eyed girls." Or golden-green in the case of the Ripley sibs. Even Juliet's brother Carl has the same attractive eyes, reflecting the family's partial demon blood.
"Mmm. You're right. It does help, a lot. Because it's clear to me that I've been horribly underestimated." She looks down, her eyes moving slowly.
I follow her gaze, and finally get a glimpse of her shoes. For some reason, when I first saw her, my mind automatically filled in sneakers because she looked like she worked here. But no, her shoes aren't your usual vulcanized Nike-types. Instead, she's wearing leather boots.
Old-fashioned shoes that don't insulate well against electricity, if at all.
"Shit!" I try and ice her up, but I can only get out maybe a couple of random flurries before electricity blasts from the tips of her feet, arcing up high and impacting on my watch. She doesn't shock me, but my watch is a write-off, a smoking ruin.
Harlan and Annie are surprised enough by the strength of her foot lightning that they let go of her wrists, the dark whips falling away and allowing her to unleash waves of lightning full force against the three of us just as the lights come back on again.
Pure white noise overwhelms my vision, my hearing, all my senses.
And it doesn't go away.