Summus Proelium

They say when your adrenaline kicks in hard enough, everything seems to slow down. But in this case, it was kind of the opposite. My adrenaline was through the roof, yet everything happened really quickly right after the sound of that gunshot filled the air. I had a glimpse of Pittman’s head snapping backward with a hole right in his forehead, the man collapsing to the ground as Sierra and Paige released him in their surprise. Wren and Peyton, who were already over by the truck, hit the ground, the latter reflexively putting a marble-shield in front of both of them.

Meanwhile, every other Ministry person there had spun toward Bobby with their own weapons raised. They were shouting things about putting it down, stepping away, telling Price to get back, and so on. All of which confirmed what I had already known: this wasn’t part of their plan. Of course it wasn’t. They wanted Pittman alive for a myriad of reasons, not… not shot in the head!

Price, by that point, had switched places with Fisher. The giant bear, in his own suit, made no move to attack Bobby or anything. He just stood there, holding one paw up for the rest of the troops to quiet down, which they eventually did. Though no one stopped pointing their guns that way. They all looked like they were one twitch away from adding another body to the count.

As for me, my eyes kept snapping back and forth between the body on the ground (I couldn’t see his head from this angle) and Bobby himself. I was in shock, too confused to react in any meaningful way. Dead. Pittman was dead. After all that, after everything I’d thought through, all the agonized debate both external and internal, he was just… gone, shot in the head like any ordinary man on the street could have been. Everything he’d done, everything he’d tried to do, and now he was just dead. I’d thought we were going to have to find a way to get him back after handing him over, that we would have to make sure he couldn’t be forced to help the Ministry make their power-erasing serum or whatever it was supposed to be. But no, he was just dead.

Paige and Sierra hadn’t moved since they dropped him. In any other situation, I was sure they would’ve immediately jumped to take the gun from Bobby or at least been just as active as the Ministry people in demanding he drop it. But in this case, they just stood there, staring down at the body in even more shock than I was. They didn’t move and didn’t speak, at least not out loud. What was going on inside their heads? What were they thinking? What were they saying to each other? I had no idea. I didn’t even know what I was thinking right then, let alone those two.

Bobby stowed his gun with a quick motion worthy of a magician. His voice was calm. “Sorry, I couldn’t let it happen. I told you I understood the situation, and I did. I do. The situation was that he needed to die before he could do anything else.”

There was probably a lot that could’ve been said to that, but right then, all I wanted to do was hug him. And maybe hit him just a little bit. Yes, part of me was still upset about a prisoner being executed. Killing Pittman when he was handcuffed, shackled, and blindfolded obviously wasn’t really any better than if we had killed him when he was strapped to the virtual reality machine. Either way, he was completely helpless. It was wrong. We couldn’t just go around executing people like that! Not even people as bad as Pittman had been. Even with everything he had done or wanted to do, just summarily killing him like that was still bad. I had to keep believing that.

And yet, despite all those thoughts screaming in the back of my head about how wrong this was, I also felt something very different. There was that part of me that was furious and disgusted, but it was quiet next to the part that was… yes, relieved. It was a feeling that immediately made me experience a rush of disgusted guilt. What was wrong with me? A man had just been killed in front of me, executed in cold blood just like that, no warning, no chance to defend himself, nothing. He was given no chance whatsoever. One second he was alive, and the next… he was just dead. And part of me was okay with that? Part of me was relieved we wouldn’t have to figure out how to stop him later? Part of me--part of me--goddamn it, what the fuck was wrong with me?!

Whatever it was, the fact that what I really wanted to do was embrace Bobby as tightly as I could wasn’t helping. Which, on top of being wildly inappropriate, probably would’ve given the Ministry entirely too many hints. Granted, it would also confuse the hell out of them, but still. It was just a bad idea all around. And made me feel even more like a monster. That relief I felt, the thought that at least we didn’t have to deal with Pittman anymore, the fucking gratitude about… about… the fact that a living person was dead, made me want to throw up. As though voiding my last meal would also get rid of the horrible guilt, or maybe remove that feeling of relief entirely.

So, through all that, I just stood there like an idiot. I didn’t move. Neither did Paige and Sierra. They were still over there, staring down at the body on the ground while probably talking to each other privately. They were in their own world together, and I was in mine, alone. I was in my head, arguing with myself, yelling at myself, negotiating with myself about how I was allowed to feel.

At least Wren hadn’t seen anything. She heard the shot, but Peyton had knocked her down and covered her with the marble shield before she could see the dead body. But how much had she figured out already? Did she know he was dead? Peyton was there, she was murmuring to her, telling her something about everything being okay, that there wasn’t a fight going on. Which was true, there was definitely nothing like a fight.

Fisher, by that point, had beckoned toward a couple of the Ministry troops while keeping his voice low and calm. “You know what needs to happen now. You have to come with us and explain yourself to… to the people in charge.” He was clearly being careful about exactly what he said in front of us, even in this situation. My family and their secrets.

Not that I could exactly throw stones on that front.

“I know a lot of things,” Bobby replied evenly, looking directly at the bear while the Ministry guys approached with a set of cuffs. He was tall enough to almost be eye to eye with Fisher. “I know you would have tried to use him. You would have risked it--they would have risked it. I know what they’d want to do if they had him. What they’re trying to do is important, but I couldn’t let you take that risk. Not with that man. He was too dangerous. And none of you would accept that, not with the stakes you’re dealing with.”

As he spoke, the man held his hands out behind his back for the guys to secure him. Which made me want to say--what? What would I say? I couldn’t exactly jump in and defend him. No matter how much I still wanted to, even after all that. He was Bobby! He’d saved my life on that day, at Anthony’s party, and probably plenty of other times besides then that I didn’t know about. How could I just stand there and let them take him to be interrogated and--and whatever else they’d want to do for taking away their chance to have someone like Pittman under their control.

Okay, calm down, Cassidy. I was freaking out a bit too much. Obviously the Ministry weren’t going to do anything stupid like kill him. They’d be angry, especially when my parents woke up and found out what happened. But this was Bobby, and that was Pittman. In the end, they’d understand. I just needed to calm down, breathe, and… and stop thinking about that dead person lying just a few feet away.

Just as those two guys started to put the cuffs on him, however, Bobby said something else. “And I know there’s still a few things I need to do to make sure this is over.”

Fisher started to respond, that massive paw of his extending as though to grab the man. I heard a voice cry out a warning, before realizing it was me, even as I took a single step that way. Others were reacting too. And yet, all of us were too late. Without another hint of warning, Bobby vanished. There was a crackle of energy and a loud popping sound, before he just disappeared. Teleportation. He’d teleported away somehow, rather than let them take him in. Some sort of Touched-Tech thing?

In the wake of that, Fisher stood with that paw extended, staring at the empty space where Bobby had been. Silence descended on the rooftop, until the bear TONI slowly turned his gaze to peer at me. Somehow, I could read the total uncertainty and disbelief in his expression. He really had no idea how to react to all this, or what to do about it. He didn’t even look all that angry about it, so much as… well, kind of like he really needed a hug.

Okay seriously, what was up with my subconscious wanting to hug people while Pittman’s body was laying there dead? Was this some sort of hysterical reaction or something? And why couldn’t I make myself move or say anything?

For Fisher’s part, he did find his voice. “I think it's safe to say,” he murmured while meeting my gaze, “that this did not go as planned.”

*******

Thankfully, the Ministry didn't think we had anything to do with what Bobby had done. Not even with the teleportation ending. I was pretty sure they knew exactly how he had pulled that off. Not that they were telling us. Nor did they tell us anything else about what they were going to do about it. Fisher said we had fulfilled our part of the deal, so they would fulfill theirs. He told us to take the truck and leave while they took care of the scene, and dealt with the body.

Obviously, Sierra and Paige didn't want to leave. But they couldn't exactly explain why, or argue. Finally tearing their eyes away from their dead father (or creator, designer, whatever they really saw him as) the two of them followed us to the truck. Peyton continued to make sure Wren didn't see the body, shielding her from it all the way until the trailer obscured any view of it.

I felt numb, cold, sweaty, confused, afraid, elated, disgusted, relieved, angry, and so much more. I felt more emotions than I actually had words for. I couldn't even start to sort them out yet.

There was a tiny voice in the back of my head questioning whether all that was real or not. It certainly could've been possible for them to fake that whole thing just so we would believe Pitman was dead. Maybe they even could've pulled it off right in front of Poise and Style. But no, I didn’t think so. The coordination and skill that would've gone into faking it to that extent, somehow switching Pittman for a fake that would fool all of us in the midst of looking like Bobby was shooting him in the head? Sure, it wasn't impossible when you added in the kind of resources and Touched-Tech they had access to. But it just wasn't what happened. No, that was real. The way they all reacted, the look on Fisher's face, the way Bobby sounded, it wasn't fake.

Besides, I was pretty sure Sierra and Paige would have been able to identify a fake considering how long they had stood there and stared at the body. They wouldn’t be so shellshocked.

Normally, one of them would have driven. But they were too out of it. And I wasn't too much better. Thankfully, Peyton stepped up again. After making sure Wren was strapped into one of the middle seats (there was the front two seats, then a bench of seats right behind that before the wall separating the cab from the trailer of the moving truck) she took the driver's seat and started it up. I was in the passenger seat next to her, while the other two were in the middle with Wren. And just like that, without even saying anything, Peyton started to drive the truck silently down and out of the parking garage.

None of us spoke for those first couple of minutes. We just sat there listening to the sound of the truck engine and the nearby traffic as Peyton took us out on the street. We had a planned route and secondary destination to head for both to make sure we weren't being followed, and so we could stop and go over this truck with a fine-tooth comb to look for trackers, listening devices, or anything else. We’d planned that whole thing out. But to be honest, the fact that we weren't talking had little to do with remembering that we wanted to wait until we checked the truck, and much more to do with the shock we were all feeling. We just sat there, silently digesting all of… all of that. Even Wren was being very quiet, arms folded in her lap as she stared at the floor.

By the time we reached the spot we had picked out ahead of time to check the truck, the same old self-serve car wash I’d taken Ashton to all those weeks earlier, Paige and Sierra were--well, not back to themselves, but at least recovered enough to help go over this thing. Wren and Peyton focused on the gear in the back, while I helped the other two go over every inch of the truck itself. Not that we were going to keep it either way, but we still wanted to know if the Ministry had tried to plant a bug or tracker on us.

None of us said very much through the search either. We certainly weren’t ready to talk about what we had just seen, and trying to talk about anything else seemed wrong. We quietly worked together, talking just enough to communicate about what we were finding. Or weren’t finding.

In the end, after half an hour of scouring the vehicle and everything inside, we were convinced that they hadn’t tried to put any tracking devices on the thing. Well, as convinced as we could be. Which probably just meant they knew we’d look for them and didn’t want to risk it. After all, they were still trying to convince us that we could all work together and have a pleasant relationship, and risking that just to maybe find out where we took the truck or what we might say when they weren’t supposed to be listening probably wasn’t worth it.

Or they thought it wasn’t worth it, at least.

Either way, we still weren’t taking the truck. None of us cared how clean it seemed, it would’ve been idiotic to keep the thing. The large metal crates full of tech supplies and tools, on the other hand, were too useful to pass up. Even then, Wren wasn’t taking them back to the shop yet. Instead, she stuck one of her teleportation badges on each of them, sending them to her secondary lab, the one she’d used until we were sure the pawnshop was safe enough after the Ashton situation was handled. They would sit there, out of the way, until she had time to run a few more tests on every individual piece of equipment.

Once that was done, after we’d sent those crates away to be examined more thoroughly at some point and walked away from the truck, we made our way back to the shop the long way. I would text the Ministry to let them know where they could get their vehicle and that we didn’t need it later. For the time being, it could sit there. Maybe it would be towed, then they could deal with that.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, we were back at the shop. Obviously, Fred, Qwerty, Murphy, Roald, and the Cuddles wanted to know what happened. But I left Peyton and Wren to do most of the talking on that point. Instead, I followed Sierra and Paige, who had silently walked off to head up onto the roof.

They were sitting together on the edge of the building, legs dangling off the side. When I poked my head up through the trapdoor, they both turned to look at me silently. Immediately, I started to second-guess myself. “I--sorry, I can leave you guys alone if you--”

“Come on.” That was Sierra, scooting aside a bit to leave space between them. “You should join us. I was just trying to decide how we’re supposed to celebrate. You think I could convince that gas station down the street to let me buy some beer if I tell them I’m the daughter of the couple who own half this city?”

Snorting despite myself, I moved that way, letting the trapdoor close behind me as I settled into that spot between the two Biolem girls. Together, we sat there, staring out at the neighborhood in silence for a minute or so.

It was Paige who finally spoke, her voice as small and soft as I had ever heard it. “I don’t understand. I’ve wished he was dead since… since…” She swallowed. “For a long time. I’ve wanted him to be dead for a long time. I dreamed about it, wished for it, obsessed over it. I longed for it. And now… he is. He’s gone. So why don’t I feel any better? Why don’t I feel any relief?”

She turned to me, eyes visibly damp. Our eyes locked, and she whispered in a voice I could barely hear, “Cassidy, am I broken?”

My own eyes closed briefly as a shudder ran through me. Then my head shook. I reached out, embracing the other girl tightly. She was limp for a moment before slowly lifting her own arms. As I felt her return the hug, I murmured, “No, Paige. You’re not broken, he was. He was a broken, sad, damaged little man, who spent so many years so angry at everyone he thought wronged him that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. He was so obsessed with getting his revenge that he… let that become everything he was. It ate him up. He was never… never what you needed him to be. Never what either of you needed him to be. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for what you both lost. But you didn’t lose it today. You lost it when he decided his revenge was more important than his children. And you lost it every time he refused to change his mind. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be relieved. It’s okay to be angry, at him, at the Ministry, at my grandfather, at Robert. It’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling. I’m right here. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. But if you just want to sit and be quiet for awhile, that’s okay too. I promise, I’ll be here for as long as you need me. I’m not going anywhere.”

And I didn’t, not for a long time. The three of us simply sat on that roof, watching the road as the sun eventually began to set in the distance. We didn’t talk about much. Most of the time, we were quiet, lost in our own thoughts, our own memories.

Pittman was gone. He was dead, but everything he had set in motion was still going. Amanda was still alive, still doing her part. There were other Biolems he had made, other plans he had, other pieces of his plan. I was thinking about what was going to happen to all of that now that Pittman was gone, and why I felt like this whole situation was only going to get more complicated.

But mostly I was thinking about how sitting here like this, with one arm around Paige and the other around Sierra, felt like the best possible place I could be.