is coming back from the super-exchange thing, and we’re throwing a party. You’ve gotta come.”
“We’ll see. Bye, Tandy.” She hit the disconnect button. Saturday was a lifetime away. She had a villain to save and a bomb to prevent from blowing a crater in the entire city before then. And she didn’t have the first idea how.
It was lowering to admit it, but she was a weapon. The mayor fired her, and she went where he pointed her. Strength and instinct—and a righteous sense of justice—but today she would be more. The mayor didn’t pull her strings anymore.
She may not know where Lucien was now, but she knew where he would be on Friday, and she’d be ready for him. Just as soon as she called her old contact at Trident and found out everything she could on their experiments on mind control.
She had no idea how she’d get into the Super Summit. The security at Victory Hall would be intense for the event, and the guest list was so tight her parents hadn’t even been able to score her an invite—and no one liked saying no to the Daring Dynamo. Darla might have been able to skate in as their plus one if they’d been attending, but they’d still be in Asia on Friday, enjoying their roles as the super ambassadors to the largest growing population with developing powers. At least she didn’t have to worry about them being blown to smithereens by an Apocalyptum bomb. She had enough reasons to have a nervous breakdown already.
The good news was if Darla couldn’t get in the door, Lucien wouldn’t be on the authorized list either. Where would he be? How would he do it?
She mentally ran through all her busts in the last decade for hints, looking at them for the first time through a criminal’s eyes. No time like the present to learn how to crash a major political shindig.
DynaGirl was going rogue.
Lucien Wroth was not in his right mind.
He knew it, knew the thoughts in his head weren’t his own, but that knowledge was buried deep in some almost-forgotten corner of his mind, beneath layers of gauzy reassurance that he was meant to be doing this. He’d promised. For Mirabelle. And really, what wouldn’t he do for Mirabelle? What was a little explosion—
Massacre.
— a little self-sacrifice when you looked at the big picture? Didn’t he owe it to her? He’d left her to their father’s neglect, left her to be poisoned by his venomous worldview, but now, this would make it up to her. This would even the scales, release him finally of his guilt. He’d be at peace—
Dead.
—and so would Mirabelle.
Owe her an apology, so damn hard to fight this, to fight him—
She’d be free—
Trapped with Kevin—
Justice would be done, and she could go on with her life, live it as she was meant to live. Happy. She’d be so happy. All he had to do was activate the rock. Harmless little rock—
Doomsday. Apocalypse.
Darla wouldn’t understand—
Thank God she wasn’t there. Thank God Kevin hadn’t been able to use her strength to trigger the bomb. Better it was him. Better she got to go on being a blindly faithful do-gooder and making the world a better place. Better just for having her still in it…
—but some things were bigger than self-interest. This was his purpose. His entire life had been leading up to this moment.
Lucien shuddered, the slight tremor the only physical symptom of the war being waged inside his head. From all outward appearances, he was just another man with a laptop case slung over his shoulder, a weary working stiff waiting for a commuter train on the 39th Street platform. The six-oh-five train to the burbs.
The train that ran directly beneath Victory Hall.
A countdown clock ticked down in his brain, tightening the coils of compulsion around his thoughts. Soon. Soon he would board the train. Take his seat. Wait until the right moment to open the laptop, activate the Apocalyptum core—
An old paper whipped up in the wind from the train tunnel and smacked into his
“We’ll see. Bye, Tandy.” She hit the disconnect button. Saturday was a lifetime away. She had a villain to save and a bomb to prevent from blowing a crater in the entire city before then. And she didn’t have the first idea how.
It was lowering to admit it, but she was a weapon. The mayor fired her, and she went where he pointed her. Strength and instinct—and a righteous sense of justice—but today she would be more. The mayor didn’t pull her strings anymore.
She may not know where Lucien was now, but she knew where he would be on Friday, and she’d be ready for him. Just as soon as she called her old contact at Trident and found out everything she could on their experiments on mind control.
She had no idea how she’d get into the Super Summit. The security at Victory Hall would be intense for the event, and the guest list was so tight her parents hadn’t even been able to score her an invite—and no one liked saying no to the Daring Dynamo. Darla might have been able to skate in as their plus one if they’d been attending, but they’d still be in Asia on Friday, enjoying their roles as the super ambassadors to the largest growing population with developing powers. At least she didn’t have to worry about them being blown to smithereens by an Apocalyptum bomb. She had enough reasons to have a nervous breakdown already.
The good news was if Darla couldn’t get in the door, Lucien wouldn’t be on the authorized list either. Where would he be? How would he do it?
She mentally ran through all her busts in the last decade for hints, looking at them for the first time through a criminal’s eyes. No time like the present to learn how to crash a major political shindig.
DynaGirl was going rogue.
Lucien Wroth was not in his right mind.
He knew it, knew the thoughts in his head weren’t his own, but that knowledge was buried deep in some almost-forgotten corner of his mind, beneath layers of gauzy reassurance that he was meant to be doing this. He’d promised. For Mirabelle. And really, what wouldn’t he do for Mirabelle? What was a little explosion—
Massacre.
— a little self-sacrifice when you looked at the big picture? Didn’t he owe it to her? He’d left her to their father’s neglect, left her to be poisoned by his venomous worldview, but now, this would make it up to her. This would even the scales, release him finally of his guilt. He’d be at peace—
Dead.
—and so would Mirabelle.
Owe her an apology, so damn hard to fight this, to fight him—
She’d be free—
Trapped with Kevin—
Justice would be done, and she could go on with her life, live it as she was meant to live. Happy. She’d be so happy. All he had to do was activate the rock. Harmless little rock—
Doomsday. Apocalypse.
Darla wouldn’t understand—
Thank God she wasn’t there. Thank God Kevin hadn’t been able to use her strength to trigger the bomb. Better it was him. Better she got to go on being a blindly faithful do-gooder and making the world a better place. Better just for having her still in it…
—but some things were bigger than self-interest. This was his purpose. His entire life had been leading up to this moment.
Lucien shuddered, the slight tremor the only physical symptom of the war being waged inside his head. From all outward appearances, he was just another man with a laptop case slung over his shoulder, a weary working stiff waiting for a commuter train on the 39th Street platform. The six-oh-five train to the burbs.
The train that ran directly beneath Victory Hall.
A countdown clock ticked down in his brain, tightening the coils of compulsion around his thoughts. Soon. Soon he would board the train. Take his seat. Wait until the right moment to open the laptop, activate the Apocalyptum core—
An old paper whipped up in the wind from the train tunnel and smacked into his
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