"Do we follow him?" Brutale asks Cheetah.
Below the pair, the battle between the fragments of the Titan Patrol and Maksai rages.
Vixen's attempts to reclaim the totems from Maksai's chest have failed. Cheetah is almost lamenting this. Without the totems, Maksai would lose his powers, and then the three would be easy prey for her. A glimpse of her attack on the weakened general and the former Keeper danced in her head: bloody, uncompromising, brutal. A handful of quick cuts and both of the cat's enemies would be dead, and all five totems would be hers.
If only Vixen had succeeded.
Maksai tossed the Zambesan heroine into a ubiquitous green dumpster and fled to lick his copious wounds.
It was becoming clearer to Cheetah that if she wanted those totems from the bovine man, she would have to do all the work herself. That meant a strategy, one that would actually provide her with the opportunity to gouge into him. It is a thought that does not interest her much.
"We leave him for now," she finally says to her South American ally. "Much as I hate to say this, I think Anansi was playing this one true. There is no indication that the totems' power has degraded at all."
"What does that mean?" Hyena asks.
"It means that he apparently has full – or near to – access to all three totems. According to the legends, this should not be possible. Anansi is a trickster god. This could be part and parcel of his jest."
The three watch Maksai amble into a neighboring commercial building, where they lose sight of him.
"He's alone. We can take him," Brutale says, though his body shows no indication that he is eager to do so.
"I think not. You are skilled, Barrera, but I think we need a tactician more than a simple assassin like you. Follow me."
Cheetah dashes to the other corner of the building, where she leaps over the road and onto the roof of the building opposite. She does not even bother looking behind her to see if the other two are keeping up. She figures that if they can't, then she no longer has need of them. It is a cold thought, especially after admitting that she needs help, but she has never been one to make apologies. She has places to be, and Maksai's damned dense hide is interfering. The reality is that desperation pushes her to leap up a wall and hurtle over roof.
Her enhanced senses soon brings her to her target, unconscious and half-drowned.
"Hello, gruesome," she says, looking down at the waterlogged body of Red X draped under the wheels of a car, swept here by the raging waters that Maksai unleashed.
~
"Red X!?" Barrera shouts at her. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Not at all. He is a man. I am a cat. And I am a woman. Everyone wants something. And I'm willing to bet persuading him to help us with be an easy endeavor."
"Good luck with that," Barrera says crossing his arms over his chest. "You seen him out there, no? Hombres like this has more secrets than reality. They're guarded, judgmental, mental, and they got problems. Problemas de locura."
"Look, he wants Maksai stopped. We want Maksai stopped. What are you afraid of?"
"Oh, I don't know... maybe the fact that we've fought these losers every single chance we've gotten!"
"So we'll show him some kindness, and all will be right in the world."
"Screw this. I need a beer."
"Is he even breathing?" Hyena asks. The trio have retreated to a nice hotel just a block away from the ragged path of destruction that Maksai has torn through the city. The suite is large, spacious, and very fit for a king, with heavy curtains, plush carpets, a fully-stocked beverage and snacking table, and downy couches and chaises that make the decorations of Maksai's palace seem utterly pedestrian by comparison. Cheetah has set Red X on one of the large fluffy beds. He has sunk deeply into its cushioning.
"Of course he is."
"Your sense of smell is that good?" Hyena asks with a heavy dose of doubt. "I don't see his chest moving. Plus, these gauntlets prevent us from sensing a pulse. And look at this fiber. It's stopped everything we've thrown at him so far. Sure, it's cut up and everything, but you see any signs of punctures? I don't know about you, but I've never seen body armor like this."
"Oh, stop being so technical, you daft heifer," Cheetah says, reaching for one of the American's gauntlets. As she fiddles with it to get it off, a catch is triggered and she jerks her hand back with a swear. There is a fresh cut across the inside of one of her fingers.
Hyena says nothing, but cannot help a sharp bark of surprise that quickly morphs into a titter of amusement.
"Get his helmet off," Cheetah says to her.
"No way. This is on you. You do what you want. I'm gonna have a beer with Barrera."
Hyena leaves the anthropomorphic cat to her own curiosity.
Cheetah growls. The cut is not very painful, and it has already begun to mend, but she does not like the idea that Hyena would be right about this. Still, she reaches forward for the mask, and hesitates. As she gazes down it, she makes out the hole in the white surface made when Barrera impaled it with one of his knives. Yet not even this could penetrate all the way through. The helmet is no simple thing, and she can't, for the life of her, identify a trigger to release. So she does what she can: she pokes and prods at it, and hopes to find some way in. It is frustrating, and as she grabs at his head, she becomes more jerky and violent with her movements.
Growling at Red X's mask, she shoves his head back into the pillows of the bed and storms off.
"No luck, huh?" Barrera asks her. He and Hyena have switched on the news and are watching the lack of progress on the progress of the Gored Ox. BBC News has wasted no time dispatching a journalist team to the wreckage Maksai has been tearing the city into. It has provided them with an English report of history in the making.
"Stupid mask won't come off."
"I told you. A nutter."
"Please. That word belongs to the Royal Islands. You sound a daft fool when you use it. What's the progress?"
"They can't find him," Hyena says. "It means he really did go to ground. When I was training to be a cop, we'd see criminals do this. Put a little pressure on them, and they'd retreat to a place that they think is safe. Nonetheless, patrols are out and the President has evacuated the capital. The outlying provinces are packed with people who've fled. A whole lot of other people are annoyed with the government for not being able to stop something like this. A bunch of businesses are still at it, though. Stupid people, only concerned with money. I guess watching the city blow up around them means nothing to 'em."
"I had no idea you were training to be a cop," Cheetah says heavily.
"Never completed it. It was just a role I thought I wanted. Maybe I'll go back to it one day, once I'm free of this curse."
"My promise still stands true, Miss Day. Help me and I'll be taking you to the waters that I trust will cure you of your tragic affliction. Then, if you want, you can return to the life of law enforcement if you so choose."
Hyena snorts. "A cop after all the crimes I've committed. That would be the very definition of irony."
"The airport's been surrounded by the military," Barrera says. He has been watching the progress on the news even as Cheetah and Hyena have been in discussion. He nods at the mustering forces appearing on his screen. "Not Maksai's stupid army, but a real one. Check it. Bright blue helmets. That means the UN. They just showed footage of some cargo ships landing in both the international airport here, and in the air force base thirty kilometers from the city. That's one place where they're taking the refugees."
"What aren't you saying, Guillermo?" Cheetah asks.
"How will we later be getting out of here? You want to go to Nigeria. I say how? We'll need a flight, but that won't be easy with all that military."
"We'll get one," Cheetah says with a dissatisfied growl.
To change the subject, Hyena nods back at the bedroom. "You thinking he might be dead?" Hyena asks Cheetah about the man in the next room. She slurps back the extra saliva created from her beer. Her negativity and cynicism irritate Cheetah more than she should let it, and growling, she knocks a vase off a nearby table.
"He's not dead!" Cheetah snaps. The wanton destruction feels good, especially considering how weary she is. Her body is throbbing with the kind of exhaustion that means she needs to revert to her weak form. So close now, she utterly refuses to give in to the agonizing transformation. A few more days and she will never have to affect that wretched form again.
All she needs are the last three totems.
Rolling her shoulders and brushing her long auburn hair back, she affects the appearance of calm and returns to the bedroom. She approaches his side of Red X's bed and pokes at the tough material of the armor. If she wanted, her claws could shred it open, but doing so would undermine any trust that she is cultivating.
She wonders if perhaps it wasn't a good idea to abandon Maksai when they had the chance to attack him. True, her two colleagues would stand no chance against his wrath, but at least, with the other two acting as a diversion, she could have snuck up on the Gored Ox. Then, while he was distracted, she could have carved the totems from his chest.
Cheetah feels a tiny tremor of motion, but she is too far gone in her own thoughts to react to the hand that grabs her wrist. Red X pulls her – back-first – against his body, with her arm cranked upward. His other hand is a fist, pressing tightly against her neck.
"Move and a blade tears out your throat."
His voice is different. It is like the synthesizer that modulates his voice has suffered some wear and tear. He sounds even more mechanical than ever.
"I am not here to hurt you."
She can feel Red X looking around the room underneath her.
"Honestly. Had I wanted to do so, you would not be alive to enjoy my lovely body against yours."
"Where am I?"
"Safe. Our common enemy tried drowning you, but I am quite pleased to see that did not take."
"Where are the others?" Red X asks.
"Hyena and Brutale are watching the news in the other room."
"Vixen and Marionette, and the others."
"If they are even still alive, I cannot even begin to fathom where they are. Have you got a phone with which to ring them? I am certain they would be as pleased as I was to learn of your survival."
Cheetah pauses to let him take this news in. He does not move. She accepts this as a sign that she has earned at least some semblance of trust.
"If you do not mind, while I enjoy being held by you, the way you are holding my arm, and with your armor pressing into me, well, I am most uncomfortable."
Red X releases her and she rises from the bed to stand looking down at him. He nods at her to take another couple of steps back. When she has done so, he rises and pats down his pockets for his communicator, which he cannot find. Cheetah made sure of that at the scene of her collection of him. Knowing it would create certain problems, she threw it aside.
"I need to try the others." He grabs the phone from the table beside him and pulls the earpiece to the side of his helmet. Even across the room, Cheetah can hear silence where there should be a dial tone.
"It's not just this building. It's the whole city. Communications are down."
"But you can watch television, no problem?" he asks.
"Do you even know the number where your friends are staying?"
After a long pause, Red X finally speaks again. "So what's the deal here? You help me and I owe you a favor?"
"Not exactly. We make a simple alliance. Maksai needs to be removed from this equation."
"On that, we both agree." Red X rises from the bed and looks the room over. He draws the split tails of his cape around him, an action that would look much more menacing had it been a full cape like the thespian Christopher Lee was so good at wearing.
"Good. Because I suggest you help us. I can get the totems from him, but we could use your skills to do so. If he was more than you and your powerless friends could manage-"
"And whose fault is that?" Red asks with a decidedly neutral tone.
Cheetah clears her throat, deciding that his petty interrogations are beneath her. "If he was more than you and your friends could manage, and if he can hold his own against the army, then it means he likely surpasses the meager skills of Hyena, Brutale and myself. Simply put, we could use your genius. You created these weapons, did you not?"
"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't."
"Can you make some other kinds of weapons for us?" Cheetah asks.
"No. Besides, I don't see what I would possibly be getting from you in return for helping you out."
"There is the mercenary I was expecting," Cheetah says with a smile. "Since you are admittedly not the one who fashioned your own weapons, it means you're not the mastermind of your battle suit. So where might you have gotten it? I say it's stolen. And why? Because you want to be better than everyone else. And no doubt there's a price on it somewhere." Cheetah approaches Red X and pops a claw. He doesn't flinch. Up close to him again, she traces the red mark stretching across his forehead. "You scratch our backs and we'll scratch yours. That armor is high-tech. It is clear that you know how to use it, and because of it, your combat and tactical skills are heads and tails beyond most people's."
"Compliments will get you nothing."
"How about ten million dollars?"
"Go on."
"With Hyena and Brutale, you distract that psychotic side of prime rib long enough for me to carve the totems from his chest. Maybe I'll even carve his heart from his chest, too. We shall see."
"Then what?"
Cheetah smiles at the black-clad warrior. "Then I give you ten million."
"More likely, you'll scratch my back with those claws of yours. I've seen them cut. I'm no idiot to be manipulated like that."
"Then how about you join us?"
"I'm already with a group."
"But are they making you rich? Are they really helping you to find...," Cheetah looks over his battle suit and the rigidity of his stance. She honestly does not know what he is looking for, what motivates him. Without a face, she truly cannot get a read on who he is or what his motivations are. "...whatever it is you're looking for."
"What if they are?"
"Then it is a shame that they are not here to help us. But you, Red X, are. You're skilled, and we need you. And you, I think, need us. Will you really just let the big bad Ox tear this city apart if you're given a chance to stop him?"
Cheetah pushes her lips into a pout. With a tilt of her head, she is now looking at him from under lidded eyes. Countless are the victims to this look. "Think of all the poor little children that will be crushed. The poor little kids who will lose their parents."
"Like the children of Tantunu?"
"Well," Cheetah says with a shrug. Though the pout is still on her face, her tail whips once in annoyance. "Business was business, after all. At least until Maksai tried to kill us all. Silly, short-sighted man. And that limited vision, my blood-stained friend, is why we will succeed with you."
"Why are you after the totems?"
"Ah. Well, I think that is-"
Red X cuts her off with a lifting of his hand and a tilt of his head. "I can be out of here in a heartbeat. I could look into your allegations that my acquaintances are all dead. Hell, I might even be able to take Maksai down alone. We're sitting on a mountain of possibilities, kitten. The only thing that's keeping me here is curiosity. If you want my services, I need answers."
"Then you'll get no money."
"Knowledge is power, Minerva."
Hearing her name from him takes Cheetah by surprise. Though she has never bothered trying to keep her real self hidden or disguised, that he even knows her name proves he is a cut above the standard mercenary. "If you know my name, then you know why I need the totems."
"To make a knife and sacrifice someone."
"Bravo. But keep the blood-letting to yourself. Not everyone needs to know the specifics of my relationship with Urzkartaga."
"Why do you need to do this?" Red asks, folding his arms across his chest.
"Why do you think?"
"Because your powers are leaving. That's why you bothered rescuing me. And that's why even after threatening me with no money, you'll still be paying me what you mentioned before."
"Fat chance of that, Yankee!"
"And in pounds sterling."
Cheetah likes the audacity of this man. She just doesn't like that he is using his audacity to negotiate his own terms. He has proven himself to be quite capable a fighter, a cunning tactician in battle, and now, he is proving himself to be an excellent extortionist as well. She really wants to rip him out of his suit and hurl him to his death five floors below.
"I do not want to die," Cheetah says at last. "Centuries switching forms, from this beautiful one to the wasted agony of my original body, has taken its toll on me. I was supposed to be perfect, but my damn concubine ruined that for me. So I'm dying. I have four days left. I will not stand by and just let my death happen."
"Ten million in pounds sterling. And you can keep talking. It is all just currency."
"You do drive a hard bargain, Mr. X."
"What are you paying them?" Red asks of the two in the other room, too busy with their news, beer, and refrigerator full of snacks to hear the pair.
"Nowhere near what you're asking."
"Then I'll throw in my discretion for free."
~
One by one, the Titan Patrol trickles back to Pyro's apartment. The place is cramped with Buddy Baker on the floor of the bedroom, and twelve youths and Empress stretched about, making the place a sweltering sauna of 98 degree body heat. But it provides the Titan Patrol with what little comfort they can find following the utter disaster that was the day.
Anita greeted each with news that Buddy woke up, ate, and then passed out again on the floor of Ella's bedroom.
"At least something went right today," Ella sighs, retreating to the bathroom. Two of the kids have retreated there to make room for the others. Ella is not courteous as she hurries them from the room. There, she sits on the porcelean seat and sobs quietly. Losing her totem has filled her with a gaping hole, and being around people right now is the last thing she wants. In the morning, before heading out to battle, she put her call in to her co-workers at Musyimi and Njenga Advocates. With her injuries – the loss of her heat, the grenade shrapnel in her back – putting that call in now would kill her.
~
"What happened?" Anita asks of the others. "Where is Red X?"
"Missing in action," Mari says as Peekaboo helps her into the old armchair near the couch. Mari winces as she stretches her leg out before her. "Maksai is a brute. He flushed Red down the street with his new water powers."
"He must have lost his communicator," Lashawn says, taking the chilled bottle of water offered her by one of the boys. "We haven't been able to get hold of him at all."
"He might be dead," Marionette says.
"Really, girl? You're going there?" Lashawn snaps, jerking the now half-empty bottle of water from her lips.
"What?" Marionette asks, sliding back her hood and unzipping the front of her dark blue bodysuit part way down her chest. "It's true. I mean, we haven't seen hide nor hair of him, so who's to say he wasn't drowned. Even if he wasn't, who's to say he could find his way back here, anyway."
Lashawn glares at the blond. "You are some piece of work, you know that?"
"That sun was murder on me," Marionette says, poking at her bright pink cheeks. "I'm going for a walk. See you fools later."
"Turner, I don't think... Turner! Mali Turner! I'm talking to you!"
But Lashawn Baez's calls fall on deaf ears. Mali Turner has left the apartment.
"What is with that girl?" Lashawn asks, glaring at the door.
"Alice is back," Mari tells her. Like Lashawn, she is sucking back a bottle of water. The bottles were certainly not part of their purchase in the morning. It is a sign that despite the culture shock of city life, the kids were resourceful enough to get supplies on their own.
"Yeah. I think I noticed that, too," Lashawn admits with a thick-lipped frown. "You get to a point in looking at people and you try tellin' yoself that what you see really ain't there. But in yo heart, you know that you're no blind fool. All we can do now is trust that the oddball in her head won't do nothing stupid."
"And that she's got enough of a sense of self-preservation to find her way back here."
~
Marionette walks in oblivion. There is too much going on in her head. Attempting to deal with the madness of too many children in such a small place would be the end of her. Let alone the nagging temperament of the wannabe nurse. It is all so frustrating, to have to be here with all these people, when she could be back home, where she belonged. She sings a song to herself as she walks, hoping that by focusing on the words, she will be able to bring some peace to herself in this crazed situation in which she has found.
"I'm not under your spell/ I'm not under your spell," she repeats the refrain again and again. All around her is the silence of a deserted street with birds in the trees. She tries to ignore it all. Once upon a time, back when she had no control over herself, she was forced to listen to the pecking songs of birds that spoke in human voices. Those were days that she wanted to forget because those were the days when she was completely under someone else's spell. The fragments of that time are confusing and difficult to think of.
Whose spell are you worried about, baby girl?
"I think you know," Mali tells the voice in her head.
Silly girl. You can't escape me. Once you've gone down the rabbit hole, you'll never be truly free from it.
"I can try."
And you'll fail. Just as you've done all. Day. Long. And what can you do about it? Nothing at all. I felt you fighting me. I did. And I applaud your effort. But you're fooling yourself if you think you can get away from me.
"I have control of my mind and body," she says, passing by a young man taking a box of things out to his car. He turns to her with a sidelong glance that Mali has gotten all too used to. "I'm in control now."
You only wish. I let you back. I don't want to be around little wretches like those kids. Why else do you think you're back?
"I'm back because I wanted to be."
Dream on. I'm too strong for you. The only reason you're alive. You owe me everything.
"I'm not listening to you. Just go away!"
With her words, Mali Turner smacks her head.
Bring it!
Mali slams her fist into her skull.
What you got?
Mali palms her forehead.
The abuse continues until Mali's head gets dizzy. It go on after she has fallen to her knees on the dusty street. It lingers even after her knuckles are scraped open. It continues until she has turned her assault into a song of digital percussion and vocal yodeling.
And all the while, Alice laughs deep inside, safe from Mali's wailing
~
Darkness has long set, and the uneasiness that the Titan Patrol were feeling has faded into a dissatisfied acceptance of the dismal day. This, in turn, has dwindled before the overwhelming might of exhaustion. Mari's leg is feeling better, thanks to the Hodou administrations of Empress in the form of a nutmeg and bean paste that – remarkably – has drawn out all swelling, while bracing her broken bone back into place.
Poor Anita has been throwing everything she has had into the healing of everyone here: Mari's leg, Ella's shrapnel-gashed back, Buddy's myriad injuries. And yet, there is nothing they can do to help her with her own problems: those of Secret and the death of her grandfather. Mari has come to admire the girl's fortitude and determination, and with that comes acceptance of all of her frustration and lack of civility.
The kids, as kids are wont to do, are recovering from their trauma in various ways. The older ones are taking on a much more adult role, herding the youths when and where they can, helping to keep them busy or to distract them from their confusion with books and lessons. It will not be long before this small apartment actually becomes too small for them, and they will need an alternative.
Luckily Ella took responsibility for this task before they set off after Maksai that morning. After her emergence from the bathroom, and while Anita drew out the metallic fragments from Ella's back, one of her colleagues called up with good news. Come the dawn, the children would be taken to a nunnery just outside of the city. There they would find the care and attention they needed to overcome the week's tragedy. Ella's news was punctuated with the reassuring fact that the kids would have that shelter "as long as they need it."
It was one small piece of comfort in a day that felt like a thousand papercuts.
As Mari settled into bed beside her sister, too many thoughts and emotions were vying for her attention. Worry for Red. Concern for Tabu being in control of her forces again and the guilt at being directly responsible for that situation. The fact that Cheetah had her sister's totem. Agony at her father's death. Anger at Maksai for dragging the children into this. Fear that no matter what they did, they would never be able to stop the Gored Ox that Maksai has become. Anxiety that she would never get her own totem back. Dread that the convent wouldn't be enough for the kids.
Yet still, even amid all of these warring emotions, Mari is able to slip away into sleep.
She comes to with a jerk.
Marionette is standing over her, reaching down at her. Mari tries to get up, but can't. She doesn't quite understand why until she tries to take a breath. Only the barest trickle of air rasps through her mouth.
"Help me," Marionette cries, even as she grips Mari's neck tighter and pushes her deeper into the bed's pillows.
Mari gags, trying to choke out a response, but nothing comes forth. She starts flailing, slapping at Marionette's arm and scratching at her face. The reactions are automatic, and utterly ineffective. Mari does not have the presence of mind to recall Turner's taking on the strength of Grodd earlier, nor does she consider the pressure building up in her own face and head as the result of such incredible brute force. All she can do is gasp against a blocked windpipe and punch and slap and kick and thrash out at the bewitched blonde.
Ella is shaken awake by Mari's thrashing. She recognizes the situation at once and reacts quickly with several solid punches to Marionette's ribs, but the frantic American does not let go.
Then there is movement that is too quick for Mari to catch. Then she can breathe again. Drinking air too quickly for her body to catch up, she starts coughing.
"Easy. Gently. Gently. There. That's the ticket." The voice is deeper than her sister's. A hand is behind her back, helping to support her as she sits up, coughing and gagging.
The light switches on and Lashawn is there, her wild curly hair stiff and plastered in a strange shape, like she hasn't moved in hours. "The hell is goin' on in here?"
Marionette is unconscious and pressed up against the closet door. She is still wearing her bodysuit, and there is a peacefulness to her oblivion that was not there while she was trying to choke the life out of Mari.
Mari's breathing steadies. "Ma... ree... yun... et. She... at... <Akt!> me."
"I wouldn't try talking right now. Give yourself some time. Someone, get her some water."
In the light, Mari can see who is actually talking: Buddy Baker, the Animal Man. But the action has not done him any favors. Several of the gashes across his chest have sprung open despite the oozy healing plaster that Anita has dressed his wounds with. His face is still swollen and she can barely tell that he has two eyes for the swelling around one, but like the true hero he was, he has come to her aid. "I heard her choking. It was a reaction. Animal instinct, if you will."
"Buddy?" Lashawn says, realizing that Buddy Baker has gotten up from his deep sleep. "Oh, thank God for small favors."
"What about her?" Ella asks of the unconscious blonde.
"Poor Anita's gonna have to step up to the plate again," Lashawn observes sardonically.