Chapter 12
Everything hurt.
I very slowly got out of bed and took a few painkillers, eyeing the almost empty bottle.
I was already out?
Once the morning necessities were taken care of, I went to the suit room and took in the mess.
I'd been so sore and exhausted when I finally made it back to my unit that I'd barely taken the time to put the suit away. Even without a deep inspection, I knew I wasn't going out again anytime soon.
The helmet was the worst.
It looked like it had been made of wax and held too close to a flame.
The visor was gone. The shape of it was wrong. I poked around as best I could; the internals looked mostly intact, but the whole thing would need to be rebuilt.
In a burst of frustration, I tossed the helmet.
When it hit the floor, it made a hollow, cracking sound.
I stared at it for a second before bending down to pick it up. A split had formed down the front, running diagonally through the visor slit, wide enough to see fully inside.
With only a little effort, I pulled the helmet in two.
I just stood there, looking at the two halves.
"Damn it."
I looked over the rest of the suit. It had fared better, but only by comparison.
The acid attack had focused on the helmet, but it hadn't been contained to it. The chest plate and the right shoulder, in particular, had taken enough damage that I'd have to replace both.
It would be much easier than the helmet. Still expensive.
The carbon-fiber underlayer hadn't been spared either. Beneath the chest plate it was intact, but around the neck it was almost stripped bare. In several places, I could see the inner mechanisms exposed.
I prodded carefully at the damaged sections. The internals were compromised, but only where the acid had actually eaten through.
I sat back, tossed my probe onto the nearby workbench, and let out a long breath.
So apart from the dents, scarring, and surface damage, I was looking at extensive repairs to the upper suit and a complete rebuild of the helmet.
"All this damage," I muttered, rubbing my face, "and I didn't do anything."
Nothing of worth.
My mind drifted to estimates even as I stood there, wasting time whining.
It was going to take the better part of a month to get the suit functional again. Most of that time would be the helmet, but I couldn't go out without all of it.
A month.
A month more of deaths.
The tremor of anger pulsed through my veins. But instead of embracing the impulse, I went to put on coffee.
I needed to start casting a new helmet.
Later, I had the suit opened, all the armor plates removed.
I worked slowly, putting the servos and wiring back together while the TV murmured in the background.
"We return to the story of the new mysterious villain who has assaulted the streets over the last few months," the newswoman said.
"After attacking several groups of known escaped villains, it appears he's operating as some kind of hit man."
I looked up from the soldering iron and stared at the screen.
"Hit man?" I muttered.
"The real question," she continued, "is who this knight of darkness is serving."
I rolled my eyes and went back to work.
"We took to the streets to find out how people feel about this new danger stalking our city."
"I don't want some nut in a suit of armor running around killing whoever he wants! The heroes need to step in!"
"Hey man, I'm not saying he's right—but the people he's killing? We're better off without them. Call it grey justice."
"We have organized heroes who are trained to deal with these kinds of criminals. Is he trained? I don't think so—and people will die."
"If he was really a good guy, why hide?"
I didn't look up as I checked that all the wiring was properly insulated. From the voices alone, I could tell it was several different people.
"Channel 5 does not support this form of 'grey justice.'
Justice should not leave our streets fearful—or soaked in blood."
I closed the section I was working on. That should do it for the internals.
As I worked on the connection point that tied the helmet to the suit, I was surprised by an electric shock.
I jerked my fingers away, shaking them.
"Ow." I eyed the connection.
That was odd. The suit was unpowered.
I looked down at my stinging, but undamaged, fingers as an idea began to take shape.
My new idea cost me a week of work. But while the new helmet was being formed, I had time, time best spent improving things.
"We're here today with the team leader of our very own hero team," the TV said.
"Ravenport's own—Tsunami." There was a pause, clearly meant to allow for an applauding audience.
"It's so good to have you back with us, Tsunami! I've always been a huge fan," the anchor gushed.
"It's always good to speak to the people," Tsunami replied. "I don't get much time for that with my schedule."
"You're always welcome here," she laughed.
"We wanted to talk to you about this new trend—this 'grey justice,' as it's being called."
"Yes," Tsunami said calmly. "A disturbing trend."
"Very much so," the anchor agreed.
"It seems to be driven by more easily influenced people—sparked by the newest masked murderer to take to our streets."
There was a brief pause.
"And since you're the only hero who's fought the man responsible for these killings," she continued, "we thought it best to hear from you."
"Yes, thank you," Tsunami began. "It is, of course, concerning to have such a person running loose in the city. That concern isn't eased by the fact that his targets so far have been former supervillains."
"As for this 'Grey Justice' idea…" He paused. "Murder is murder. It doesn't become acceptable just because the victim was dangerous."
"Absolutely," the anchor weighed in. "There is no justice when you take away someone's chance—not just at a fair trial, but at the opportunity to better themselves."
I couldn't help but glance up at the TV. The anchor looked like every other carefully polished blonde I'd ever seen behind a desk.
"Better themselves?" I muttered.
"Yes," she continued smoothly, "our society is built on the belief that people can change—if they're given the support to do so."
I rolled my eyes and went back to work.
"Well, I thank you for coming to talk with us! I know we'll see you again!"
"It's always a pleasure, Melissa." There was a slight pause. I pictured Tsunami looking straight into the camera.
"And if this 'Grey Knight' fellow is watching—remember what I told you."
His voice stayed calm.
"You won't get away a second time."
I started putting the suit back together. A thousand screws, each one pinning everything in place.
I glanced up in time to see Tsunami receiving an awkward-looking hug from his host.
I finished reassembling the suit.
Now it was time to get another watermelon.
A while later, in my now-silent workshop, I lowered a garbage bag containing its watermelon pilot into the suit.
It was still missing a helmet. The new one was still being formed, but it was nearing completion. For now, I could work without it.
With the watermelon pilot in place, I backed up to my computer. I'd hardwired the suit for the test.
A couple of leads were clipped to the outer shell, and with no ceremony at all, I activated the electric discharge system.
Small arcs of electricity danced across the surface of the armor. The graphs on my screen climbed exactly where I'd hoped they would.
The smell of cooked watermelon, and melting plastic, was less encouraging.
I removed my little, burned test pilot and rolled it in my hands.
"Okay. I need to direct the flow…" I muttered as a phantom pain shot up my arm.
My workshop was unusually loud. A good number of my machines were running at once. I took in the sight of the place operating like it really was a tool-and-die shop. The TV, my usual source of background noise, sat dark.
It took a moment for me to notice the intermittent, rhythmic knocking. A few seconds more before I realized it was coming from my sliding car door.
I pushed open the door beside it, the sunlight startling. As my eyes adjusted, they settled on a short, blonde-haired woman holding a brown paper bag and a white cup.
"Hey!" Jack said as I stood there. "I hear you're busy, but I wanted to check in on you after your hospital visit."
She offered the bag and cup like an olive branch.
"My what?" I said, before remembering. That had been ages ago, hadn't it?
"Oh, right," I said. "I feel fine."
I tried to give a reassuring smile but didn't move from the doorway.
"You struck me as the work-through-it type," she said, not lowering her arms. "But if it's not a big problem, I'd like to have a short conversation."
I stared at her, quickly running through everything going on and trying to figure out if any of it would look suspicious.
"Ah, yeah…"
My suit room was still closed, and she couldn't see into any of the equipment. But it would probably be more suspicious to refuse, right?
"Come in. It's kind of loud at the moment."
I stepped inside slowly, stiff as a statue, my eyes flicking around the shop again.
She stepped inside and stuffed the bag and cup into my hands.
"A peace offering," she said, moving farther into the shop.
"Wow, you look busy," she added, not venturing too far in.
"Yeah," I said, finally peeking into the bag.
It was a deli sandwich wrapped in plastic and a big cookie.
"Thanks," I said, taking a sip from the cup without really tasting it.
"No problem." She raised her voice to be heard over the machines. "Shouldn't you have ear protection?"
"Probably." I shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. "I wanted to talk about an order—and, of course, check on you. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since I dropped you off downtown."
I held out my arms. "I am whole."
I glanced at my black metal arm. "At least, no less whole."
I lowered my arms. "What order?" I asked, picking up on the other part of what she'd said.
"I know you said you have a backlog," she said, glancing around the busy shop, "but I could really use a new supplier for some specific, common bits."
She gave me an apologetic smile.
"So what do you need?" I asked, a little more directly.
"Mostly spacers, brackets, and custom inserts," she explained. "My current supplier is, well…"
She ran a hand through her hair. "I don't want to keep using him. And those parts are just annoying to source."
I thought about it. Nothing big, but it would probably end up being a lot. And what she was really asking for was an ongoing agreement.
I sighed. I shouldn't have helped last time.
"I could probably get something done next week," I said. I should be finished with my suit by then, and I supposed having legitimate work would help in the long run.
"That's so good to hear!" She brightened. "You have no idea how much it'll help having you just across the street."
I winced. "Yeah. No problem."
This sandwich was not worth the trouble.
"Sorry, I'll let you go. I can tell you're busy. Same email for the details?"
"Yeah, that's fine."
One of the machines chimed several times, then fell silent.
"Duty calls," I said, walking Jack the short distance to the door. "I'll be in touch."
I crossed the shop, setting the food and coffee down on a table as I passed. I opened the machine housing and slid out the newly formed helmet.
It was still missing its internals, everything that wasn't metal, but wiring it in would just take time.
I carried it into the suit room and set the helmet down while it was still warm. The small computer there was running diagnostics.
Almost ready.
Just a few more things.
Then I would be ready.
Just in time, because another target had started making noise.