8FOLD: Daylighters # 7, "Five Year Rule"

Tom Russell joltcity at gmail.com
Wed Jun 3 22:01:56 PDT 2020


As humanity prepares to join the war in space, alien agents work with
fifth columnists to weaken the earth's defenses. They are opposed by a
decentralized network of superheroes and specialists, the DAYLIGHTERS,
whose efforts are guided by the sophisticated AI network MEDUSA. But
Medusa, and the Daylighters, have been compromised...

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              |___/     |___/  [8F-194] [PW-39]

      # 7 - FIVE YEAR RULE

------- FEATURING --------------------------

Kate Morgan, SHIMMER, age 29.
Phases through solid matter. Concert pianist.

Claire Belden, RAINSHADE, age 31.
Metamancer. A double agent concealing the existence of The Company,
responsible for FEVER's compromise of Medusa.

Trinity Tran, age 35.
Haematomancer. A fugitive who works for The Company in return for
their protection. Recently healed Shimmer's injuries resulting from
the Battle of the Prolix.

Cal Morgan, THE MIGHTY INCH, age 18.
Permanently miniaturized. High school dropout.

Cal's MEDUSA, age six months.
An instance of Medusa, cut off from the wider network, aware that her
sisters have been compromised.

--------------------------------------------

Cal and her Medusa have spent like a whole flipping week trying to
figure out a way to get into the Cradle Tech headquarters, so that Cal
could bug the bank of computers that gives Cradle (and whatever
elements of FEVER have infiltrated Cradle) backdoor access to Medusa's
estranged sisters. Once Cal is inside the building, it should be
easy-peasy - pretty much the only advantage to being an inch tall is
that people tend not to notice you if you don't want them to - but
getting into the building and through its intensive series of
mechanical and mystical (thanks, Rainshade) security checkpoints is a
whole nother bag of apples.
   Very quickly our intrepid duo decided they needed someone to sneak
Cal in. And this appeared to be an insurmountable roadblock, because
Cal didn't really have a support network to fall back on. "Dot's gone.
Darkhorse quit for some reason, so she doesn't have clearances. That
basically leaves Kate, and come on, she's not going to trust me. I
have like zero friends. Present company excluded, obviously."
   There are a lot of Daylighters out there, but finding someone who
both (a) has clearance and (b) wouldn't balk at "my secret renegade
instance of Medusa that's cut off from the network has evidence that
Cradle Tech, our trusted partner for years, has been infiltrated by
the bad guys, so we're going to secretly bug them to prove it, but
please don't tell anyone because they might be listening and we need
the element of surprise, can you help a tiny person out, no big deal"
narrows it down pretty much to zero.
   On top of that, if they approach the wrong person, that's gonna be
it. FEVER will find out. They'll cover their tracks - there'll be
nothing to support Cal's assertion. She'll be discredited and kicked
out of the only thing she has going for her right now, the thing she's
trying to build her new bite-sized life around.
   And then there's her Medusa, who was supposed to be deleted;
they'll remedy that right quick. Cal would gladly risk everything else
- FEVER getting away, her own career, maybe even her own life (maybe
not? she kinda likes being alive) - but she won't risk someone else's.
Not again, not after Dot. The consequences of flubbing this are so big
that when she thinks about it, it's hard for her to breathe. And so
she hesitates. She falters. She worries.
   She should be going out on missions. That way, people will get to
know her and she will get to know people. Because she needs someone
that she can trust, and someone that knows she can trust her, someone
that will take Cal's story at face value and not notify the high
mucky-mucks. But even when the fate of the world wasn't at stake, Cal
was lousy at making friends. She's shy and she's abrasive, and those
are two flavors that don't taste great together.
   So instead she putters around her miniature house, talking to the
only friend she has in the world, and listening to music. Medusa is
her personal DJ: she knows Cal's tastes pretty well, and better than
that, she knows Cal, and picks the right track to suit Cal's current
mood. But two days ago, while Cal is lazing about in her tiny bedroom,
Medusa picks a Tina Wazowie track, and it's the first major misstep.
   "Nope," says Cal. "Still mad at her."
   "Shall I remove her from the playlist?"
   "No, leave it on the list, just not today. I'm still mad at her
now, but I might not be tomorrow. It goes back and forth." She
hesitates. "I think I tend to hate her when I hate myself, and I tend
to be okay with her when I'm okay. If that makes any sense."
   "Absolutely," Medusa reassures her. "She's the reason why you're
permanently miniaturized. That's brought good things into your life,
and not-so-good things. You're going to vacillate between being
weirdly thankful and being angry."
   "Yeah, well, she's gonna have to make it up to me one of these
days," says Cal casually. "She owes me." Cal sits up. "She owes me.
Medusa, isn't Fahrenheit Man on the schedule this week to visit Cradle
Tech?"
   It takes a fraction of a second for Medusa to check. "Two days from
now. They're running a routine check-up on his new containment suit."
Medusa knows what Cal is thinking, but she lets Cal be the one to say
it. One problem with being friends with a human is that they don't
have nearly as much processing power or speed. Cal previously told
Medusa that it makes her feel "totes dumb", and Medusa doesn't want
Cal to feel dumb, totes or otherwise.
   "He wouldn't help us," says Cal. "He's too straight-laced. But he
and Wazowie are an item. She can hide me somewhere on his person
before he goes in. He walks me through the door without knowing."
   "Will she, though? She has a reputation for being mercurial."
   "Flakey, yeah. But like I said, she owes me, and supposedly feels
quote really super-bad about the whole thing unquote. I can lean into
that a bit, and I don't even need to tell her the whole story. She's
not the sort to really ask questions."
   And that is how, two weeks before her sister disappears again, Cal
finds herself hiding in a compartment of Fahrenheit Man's belt.

The short version is that after a couple weeks of digging, Kate has
maybe probably found Trinity Tran's apartment. Her name's not on the
lease, of course - it would be kind of silly for a wanted fugitive to
use their name - nor the name that Kate is like ninety percent certain
is her alias. Instead, the apartment is leased by one David Collins
(apparently deceased, if he existed at all?).
   Collins worked for a technology company - never mind which one, the
names won't be on the test - which was owned by another, which was
owned by another, and that company in turned owned both the temp
agency that employed Tran's alias and the company that hired her
through the temp agency. A couple of steps sideways and then up in the
organization brings us to the company that owns this apartment
building in Chicago, about an hour's drive as the crow flies from
Kate's own house.
   She's thankful for that; she'd hate to have had to take a bus to
Cincinnati. Other than Ghedi giving her a sketch of Tran's face, she's
handled this entire investigation on her own, through what you might
call "unofficial" channels. No teleports, no backup, no tech requests,
no Medusa in her ear. If you're trying to find out why Rainshade is
hiding someone, it wouldn't do to give her a heads-up. Even after
Rainshade saved her life, there's still something in Kate's brain that
doesn't trust her. There's a reason for that, Kate knows there's a
reason, she just doesn't quite know what it is. It's like trying to
remember the words to a song: she knows there's something there, she
can remember the melody, but.
   And Kate's paranoia (is paranoia the right word?) only got worse
when, in that same impossibly byzantine knot of shell companies and
subsidiaries, she came across both the company that writes Claire
Belden's checks and the company that owns her own apartment. She
remembers that business with the mancers who tried to kill Melody, who
were spouting some conspiracy theory about an evil magical megacorp
only known, ominously, as "The Company". And much as she hates to give
those bozos any credit, this is starting to look an awful lot like
that. [1]
   Well, that's another story for another time, because right now she
actually has to get into said apartment. She briefly considers trying
the door. Dressed as she is in her civilian attire, that'd be the
least conspicuous approach. But if the strings-on-corkboard thing is
true, there's a non-zero chance that this tall, posh collection of
small overpriced apartments is really six floors of dark magic, traps,
and homicidal wizards. That would be a big "no thank you" even on her
best day. But today? Without back-up, without knowing if Tran is
actually in that sixth floor apartment? Not to mention the fact that
she's been out of the hospital for all of a month and her body still
complains when she moves too fast? That's right out of the question.
   And so she goes around to the side, phases herself into the wall,
and begins to pull herself straight up through it, hand over hand,
fists full of bricks, bricks full of fists. She remembers the first
time she tried this trick. Maybe she was nineteen? Twenty? She mutters
something about being too old for this stuff, but she's been muttering
that for the last few years, and she's still at it. She knows the
statistics; she's buried friends.
   Five years, people told her. Run around and punch things for five
years, and if you're lucky enough to still be alive, hang up the
tights. After five years, the chances of getting killed double, and
they just keep on doubling. A couple months from now, Kate will be
starting year twelve. Long past time for the gold watch.
   By the time she gets to the fifth floor, her body has a long list
of grievances: heavy breathing, tired arms, blood pounding in her
intangible head, back stiffening. But she can't exactly take a break
sixty feet up. She powers through the home stretch and pulls herself
into the apartment.
   Kate takes a moment to catch her breath, then looks around the
living room. A sofa, a chair, a television, none of it extravagant.
There's a deep red spot on the carpet that draws her eyes but hurts to
look at, like looking at the sun. Her eyes flit to the bookcase. It's
empty; stacked beside it are boxes with "Donations" scrawled on the
side.
   "Good morning, Kate."
   Claire is standing in front of her. Kate didn't notice her enter
the room, and doesn't see how she could have entered the room without
her noticing. She's wearing a green suit - same shade of green as her
umbrella, same shade as her costume - that is perfectly fitted. It's
the first time she's ever seen Rainshade without a mask on.
   "Is she here?" says Kate.
   Claire glances sideways for a moment, briefly considering going
through the motions of feigning ignorance before deciding it isn't
worth her time. "I moved her to a new location yesterday." [2]
   Kate feels two fingers tugging at her earlobe, and in her
peripheral vision she sees Claire checking for a Medusa earpiece. When
Kate turns her head, though, Claire isn't there; she hasn't moved from
her spot at the center of the room. Magic, bleh.
   "Can I see her?" says Kate.
   "What do you want with her?"
   "To thank her," says Kate. "For healing me."
   "I can pass that along," says Claire.
   "And maybe to help her. With her situation. Clear her name or get
the charges dropped."
   "Those people are dead, Kate. She did kill them. She didn't mean
to. Her powers snapped on and went haywire. But what does that
matter?"
   "It matters because it's involuntary manslaughter at best. And even
then they'd need to prove criminal negligence or willful blindness,
neither of which would apply here."
   "You're talking about the law. The thing about laws is that they
aren't real. The law is a lie we tell ourselves to legitimize
violence. If Trini Tran goes to trial, it doesn't matter what the
rules are. They will find her guilty, and they will execute her.
Because they want to kill her, they'll find an excuse. They always do.
They always will."
   "Laws aren't real? Listen to yourself, Claire. You sound like an anarchist."
   "Yes," says Claire flatly.
   "Oh."
   "One day, there won't be any systems of oppression. No laws, no
police, no governments. But it won't be in our lifetime. So I can
either cling to my principles and get crushed, or I can work within
the system and use it to my own ends. It's the only reason I'm able to
protect Trini. I have access to resources."
   The Company's resources, Kate thinks, but she knows better than to
say it out loud.
   She doesn't have to; Claire knows that she knows. "You know that,
though," says Claire. "You've been doing a lot of digging. Actually
revealed quite a few holes in our security."
   Kate's body tenses up.
   "Relax," says Claire, with an expression that implies Kate is being
very gauche and boring, and that Claire is very disappointed in her.
"If I wanted to, I would have just wiped your memory again."
   "What?"
   "I'm sorry for that," says Claire, moving toward her. "It just
seemed to be the most expedient course of action at that time."
   Kate throws a punch, but before it can land, the air around her
becomes heavy and humid. When she opens her eyes, she's on her back on
the floor. Claire offers a hand.
   A picture forms in Kate's mind: she'll grab the hand, but before
Claire can help her up, Kate will use a sweeping kick aimed at the
back of Claire's ankles to knock her over. Kate reaches for the hand,
and the moment she touches it, she finds herself sitting on the sofa
with a cup of tea in her hand. Claire sits in the armchair, sipping
from her own cup.
   "I hate magic," says Kate quietly. Part of her wants to leave it at
that, knows she should leave it at that, but then Claire's confession
- not just what she did, but how casually she revealed it - pushes her
to go further. "I hate you."
   Claire freezes for a moment. Her voice is quiet, stifled. "Do you?
That's a pity. I've always liked you."
   "You don't even know me."
   "But I know that you're you," says Claire. "You're always you, and
always have been. It's not that you can't be anybody else, but you
don't want to be. Like when we were starting out. A lot of people lied
to get around Fitzwalter."
   Kate remembers the Fitzwalter rule, that confiscated super-tech and
made outlaws of people who held onto it. Early in her career, she
spent more time running from the cops than she did chasing bad guys.
   "You could've lied. Knockout Mouse did. I did, though it was a
different sort of lie, hiding my magic because the world wasn't ready
for it. (Still isn't ready for it.) But you didn't. You were you. You
refuse to be anyone else. Why do you think you're still doing this
after all these years? It's because that's who you are."
   "Are you done?" says Kate impatiently.
   "Almost," says Claire, seemingly oblivious. "I heard you play once.
One of your concerts. You're very good. And very you. The way you
played, I knew who you were, I knew that you were the woman running
around in that black costume. Really, honestly: I figured it out
during Fur Elise. And I thought at the time that we might become
friends. I would've liked that."
   "You wiped my memory."
   "Once," says Claire, as if that's a defense. "If I hadn't, you
would have told the others - would have told the world. They would
have torn the thing apart."
   "That's generally what you do with a secret evil megacorp bent on
the destruction of the world. That is their end goal, right? Free the
elder gods, raze the earth?"
   "Yes," admits Claire. "But I can work against that from within the
organization. And while I'm there, I can use them to further my own
agenda. Protect people like Trini. Help the Daylighters."
   Kate doesn't buy it - she doesn't trust Claire - but she tries to
hide it. "But you're playing with fire here. If something goes wrong,
if they win because we didn't stop them, that's it. That's a huge
risk."
   "It's a necessary one," says Claire. "Because if you remove The
Company from the equation right now, all the nasty things it's acting
as a check against come rushing in, and then that really will be it.
The Company needs to stay in play; the world, and the Daylighters,
need to be kept in the dark. For now."
   "So, what happens now?" says Kate. "Another memory wipe?"
   "I'm not really sure what purpose that would serve," says Claire.
"This is the second time you've discovered the truth, but it wouldn't
be the last. You're stubborn like that; you don't give up. I wipe your
memory now, and in a few more weeks, you'd have unraveled my little
ball of twine all over again. And at that point, Upper Management
would really insist on a more permanent and violent remedy. I'd find
that very unpleasant."
   "So would I."
   "So glad we understand each other," says Claire with something that
resembles a smile. "That's why we're having this little talk. If I can
convince you to keep my little secret, I think that would be
satisfactory for all parties."
   Kate finishes her tea. "Here's the thing, though. You were right
about me: I can't be anyone but myself. And the person who keeps this
kind of secret? That ain't me."
   "I know," says Claire. "But can't you pretend?"
   Kate shakes her head. "I also know that I ain't anywhere near your
weight class. By the time you're finished with me, you wouldn't even
break a sweat. I probably wouldn't even land a single punch. But
here's the other thing about me, Claire." She stands up, balling both
hands into fists. "I ain't afraid to die."
   "Something else I admire about you," says Claire. "Something I
envy. I've always been afraid to die. Well. Not afraid of dying.
Afraid of not being alive. That's why I've always come back every
time." She stands up, turning in a circle. "My third body. I rather
like this one; I think it's my favorite. I'm going to miss it when all
of this is said and done."
   Claire taps the tip of her umbrella on the floor, and her suit
reweaves itself into her costume, complete with the mask. She taps it
again, and Kate feels her own clothing warping about her body.
   "This isn't my costume," says Kate.
   "No," Claire whispers in her ear, suddenly behind her. "It looks
much nicer though, doesn't it?" Now there's a full-length mirror in
front of her. She can't see Claire in the mirror at all. She's right;
it's a much better costume. Kate feels Claire's fingers softly gliding
across her abdomen. She whirls around but Claire isn't there.
   Kate turns back to the mirror, and her reflection smiles at her
mischievously. "I don't want to kill you, Kate," says the reflection
in Claire's voice. "But I also can't have you interfering. Not yet. I
will need you at some point, but it will be a little while. So I'm
just going to keep you tucked away on the other side of this mirror."
   "The other side of the mirror," Kate repeats.
   Her reflection points to the right. Kate turns her head toward the
empty bookcase and the boxes piled beneath it. The word "Donations" is
backward.
   "Go on," encourages Claire. "Take one out if you must."
   Kate goes over to the box, opens one of the books. Backward.
   "Okay," says Kate. "You got me. I'm on the other side of the
mirror. But people are going to notice that I'm gone."
   "Not necessarily," says the reflection, now with Kate's voice.
   Suddenly and uncontrollably, Kate doubles over with laughter. "You?
You're going to pretend to be me?" Kate covers her mouth, pushing it
down. "Claire, they will see through you in a second. Less than a
second. And you know why? Because you don't know how to act like a
person! You don't love anyone. You don't care about them, you just
manipulate them. Where your heart should be, there's nothing there.
You're empty and cold."
   The reflection waves at her with a snap of the wrist. Kate flies up
into the wall, and then crashes into the floor.
   "You think I want to be who I am?" says Claire. "You think I chose
this? I wish I was like you. Like everyone else. But I'm not."
   "Don't want to hear it." Kate pulls herself up to her feet. "I am
long past the point of having any sympathy for you."
   "Well," says Claire with a shrug of Kate's shoulders, "I guess I
had better get going. If you need to talk to me, tap the mirror
twice."
   "If I need to talk to you," Kate repeats, incredulous.
   "If you get lonely," offers Claire.
   "Yeah. Sure."
   "You'd be surprised what kind of company you'd tolerate when you're
alone. Oh, and Kate? Don't try to leave the apartment. I know you're
going to want to try it, and that you don't trust me or believe me,
but really, seriously, if you open the door or try to phase through
the wall, anything like that, you will die. Gibbering masses of
incomprehensible eldritch horror and all that."
   Kate's reflection dissolves into the glass like sugar into water,
leaving only the empty room in the mirror. It's almost as if she
doesn't exist at all, but her back tells her otherwise. Certainly
getting tossed around like a ragdoll didn't help.
   She eases herself onto the couch, letting her head rest on the
throw pillow that Trinity Tran was thoughtful enough to forget. Kate
stares at the ceiling and sighs.
   "I'm too old for this."

"I don't see why you just don't kill her," says Caracalla. "They
already know her identity is compromised; we could blame it on
Flintlock." [3]
   Claire frowns with Kate's mouth. "That's assuming we can trust
Flintlock to play along. Besides, Shimmer was right about one thing:
they don't like me or trust me. Except Derek, who trusts everybody.
But Kate? Everyone loves Kate. With her identity, I'll be in the
perfect position when Brave New World begins."
   Caracalla doesn't seem entirely convinced. "That was some story you
spun, by the way. Working from inside The Company."
   "It's what she needed to hear," says Claire carefully. "Not what
she wanted. That would have been too obvious, and she would have
dismissed it entirely. But the fiction I gave her was plausible enough
that she'll wonder if I am on her side after all. That's enough to
maintain a connection between the two sides of the mirror, giving me
access to her memories."
   And her emotions, though Claire doesn't say that part out loud.
With a trembling and nervous ecstasy she wonders what it will be like
to care about people, to love them, and, more importantly, to be
loved.




COPYRIGHT (C) 2020 TOM RUSSELL.

Medusa created by Drew Nilium and Tom Russell.


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