Chapter 85 (2/2)

Abby jogged up from behind them, finally catching up. ”Who's coming here?” she asked curiously.

Dan gestured weakly. ”The People sometimes sent out distress signals. I didn't... What should we do?”

”Nothing,” Anastasia replied, pausing her advance. She turned to Dan, gauging his reaction with judgmental eyes. ”You've already blundered. All that's left is dealing with the consequences.”

”But what if they attack us?” Dan pressed urgently.

”I don't think they will,” Abby reassured him, winding her hand through his.

”Why not?”

Anastasia turned away, resuming her stride. Her voice echoed in the tunnel, confident and cold, ”Why do you think?”

The tunnel emerged into the decoy laboratory. After Gregoir's pillaging, it was little more than an empty room. Anastasia regarded it with little interest, instead somehow zeroing in on the wall separating the two hidden areas. The matron stepped towards it, laying her hand on the smooth steel. No wrinkles, Dan noted absently. She bore her age with uncanny grace.

”It wasn't always like this,” she said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the little room. ”Secret bases, hidden faces, trap doors and silent alarms.” She snorted, her hand still resting against cool metal. ”They were called heroes, once. They were seen as selfless, once.”

She turned to face them, leaving her hand against the wall. ”It's human nature, you understand?” Her words were directed to Abby, but her eyes were on Dan. ”They were praised for doing the job of law enforcement, at a time when law enforcement couldn't do their job. Of course they would rebel against the Vigilante Acts. It was a slap in the face. Ungrateful. Dismissive of their sacrifices. They had been upholding justice while the police ran and died. Why would they run, now?” The woman smiled wryly. ”It was pride. We are such simple creatures, in the end.”

The door clicked, shuddered, and opened. It was unlike the Pearson's lair, that old, rusted, unkempt thing. There was no grinding here, no screeching hinges or rain of dust. The door opened as if its rails had been greased with melted butter. Silent and smooth.

Darkness greeted them. The lights were off within, by virtue of sheer ignorance. Dan hadn't found a switch, nor had he thought to bring a flashlight for this venture. Anastasia remained as unperturbed as ever. Dan caught the briefest gesture, a flicking of her finger, and fire sparked to life. An open flame roared into being at the center of the massive laboratory. It spread across the ceiling, crawling like a wave of spiders trailing golden silk. The darkness was captured, stored in flickering, squirming bundles, held helpless before the light.

That woman frightened him.

The room was fully lit for the first time. For the first time, Dan saw the vigilante gear in its entirety. Tables and armor and gear were piled in neat stacks across the room. Each table, laid out on display.

Something inside him eased at the sight. Anastasia's shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension. A feeling of... pressure, in the room, faded away. The older woman stared wordlessly at the room before her. Her eyes lingered on the helmet closest to the door.

”This isn't a lair,” Anastasia murmured, her voice reverberating off the walls. ”It's a mausoleum. A memorial.” With a sharp gesture, the helmet crossed the distance between them, and smacked into her hand. She hefted it, the almost fifty pound lump of metal seeming feather-light in her hands, as she examined its contours with interest.

Dan cleared his throat, quietly offering, ”I think Captain Quantum made that thing.”

”That's not his name,” Anastasia replied, almost absently. She turned the helmet over, running a finger across the soft padding within it.

”What?” Dan asked, thrown off by the sudden correction.

”Captain Quantum.” Anastasia's head turned to face Dan, her eyes not leaving the helmet. ”A child's moniker. A daydream. The fool's name was Morgan Strauss.”

Dan frowned. ”I know that. But, in costume, he went by—”

”There is no such thing as 'in costume,'” Anastasia corrected. ”These People, they made their choices long ago. They don't get to hide behind anonymity. They do not have that privilege. I will not entertain their delusions. You shouldn't either.”

”He's dead,” Dan pointed out. ”So, it's not like he knows, either way.”

Anastasia smiled grimly. ”What makes you think I care?”

”Grandma,” Abby interrupted sharply. ”Be nice. Please.”

Anastasia rolled her eyes, but smiled indulgently. It looked like a shark eyeing him for a snack. He suppressed a shudder, as she wiggled the helmet like a cheap prop.

”I recognize this fellow. His name was... Baker. Barker. Something like that. Went by Centurion. He led a People cell in Baton Rouge.” She flicked her index finger and the helmet spiraled into the air. A simple twirl of the same digit, and—

Dan staggered as a wave of something passed through him. Abby winced, behind him. His ears popped. The floor shook. Something screeched and grated and cracked.

The helmet crumpled into a molten ball the size of an apple. It fell to the floor with a tremulous clang, leaving and indentation on the steel. Smoke rose from where it lay, metal scorching beneath it. Anastasia eyed it with curiosity.

”That was no forgery,” she declared. ”It was a replica. An exact one. Or a spare.”

Dan staggered upright, his ears ringing. ”How are you so sure?” he managed to ask.

Anastasia smiled nostalgically. ”It crunched the exact same way.”

He tried not to shudder at the answer.

”I think he made these things,” Anastasia continued, spreading her arms outward to encompass the room. ”He must have been their armorer, or had a close connection to whoever it was. Someone made their gear. And when they died, they got a shrine. It's almost admirable.”

”Does that help you?” Dan asked, frowning at Anastasia's palpable amusement.

”Not at all.” The elderly matron shook her head. ”The People had a Natural, one of their higher ups. He was one of the few who knew each of the cells. Had to. His power was a sort of delayed dimensional displacement. It was an emergency measure. Like a... time capsule. Activate it, and it sucked up all their incriminating evidence. I never did figure out how to get those things open. We couldn't even see them, after it was activated.” She shook her head, caught up in old memories. ”Only knew about it because one of my guys saw it go off. So much information just floating out there, in some inaccessible pocket of reality.”

She blinked, coming back to herself. ”Anyway. Strauss would've activated that measure, once he made the decision to go dark. And he did go dark. This place is dead. The dust can attest to that.” She gestured at the ground, then fixed her gaze on Dan. ”Congratulations, Newman. Your blundering has not fatally endangered yourself, nor others.”

”Oh,” Dan replied, too distracted to really register her rebuke. ”That's good.” His mind was quietly replaying what she had just mentioned. About pocket realities, alternate dimensions. An inaccessible space. Unseen.

His veil played over his body, over his skin, his face, his eyes. Like goggles, a window into the abyss. It obeyed his thoughts, waited for his command.

Dan stared into the shimmering sapphire glow, and pondered the possibilities.