Sweet Mercy by Naomi Stone

slid open and an icy wind blasted her full on like the embrace of a Norse frost giant. Geez. She looked around at what appeared to be another alley like the one she’d left outside the facility, lit only dimly from somewhere high above. It came complete with blank brick walls, dumpsters, and tarmac scattered with trash and broken glass, stretching ahead to disappear into shadow.
    Rachel hugged herself for warmth. The scoop-necked jersey top, yoga pants, and sandals perfect for fine June weather seemed too close to nakedness now. Right. Mesmero had said he chilled his facility at night. Those poor board members might already be suffering hypothermia. He’d also said it would be unbearably hot by day. Dawn couldn’t be too far off now. She shouldn’t have to hold out too long before the transition, or before Fluke and the Team could follow Mesmero here. She hoped.
    But that wouldn’t give her long either to find her fellow prisoners. Mesmero’s taunts about programming them to destroy each other had her worried. If the Team failed to stop Mesmero in time, she had to remind the board members of themselves, circumvent the puppet master’s programming before he arrived to countermand her.
    The men must be freezing, must have sought some sort of shelter… places to huddle down and conserve their warmth. From what Mesmero had said, they wouldn’t be together. He’d set them up to act as enemies.
    She headed for the bulk of the nearest dumpster. Rotting garbage generated heat, and by the smell…
    The metal lid burned her bare fingers with cold as she pried it up. Shadows filled it, too dark to make out any shapes, but a sound—half whimper, half groan, told her she’d found at least one of her men.
    “Hello.” Even as she bounced in place, shivering in her sandals, she kept her tone bright and focused on projecting warmth and good will. “Hello—I’m here to help you—at least—help is on the way. Who am I talking to?”
    “Hello?” A weak voice ventured from out of the darkness. “Who’s there?”
    “My name is Rachel. I’m with Team Guardian.” She leaned over the opening. “And you are?”
    “The superheroes?”
    “Right. I’m afraid I’m not too super. I don’t have super strength, but maybe I can help you out of there, and the rest of the Team is on the way.” Again, she hoped.
    A figure rose up, pushing the lid of the dumpster up and out of her grip to crash against the brick wall behind. The taller of the two board members. What was his name? Frustrating, not having her specs.
    “How are you doing?” she asked him.
    “Still kicking.” He coughed. “Got caught in the rain before I thought  of hiding in here. Got soaked. Too cold to get any sleep…” He extended his hand, “I’m Graham Hanson.”
    “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.” She made sympathetic noises as she took his hand and helped him scramble out of the dumpster. Poor man. He seemed half dead on his feet. Ignoring the smell, she put an arm around him, encouraging him to walk. “Let’s move around some, get your blood moving.”
    “Right.” He leaned heavily on her but seemed to move more easily as they proceeded down the ersatz alley.
    “Where’s your friend?” Rachel asked him, “Is he okay?”
    “Friend?” Hanson halted, standing stiffly in place. “If you’re talking about Rosso, he’s no friend of mine—tried to keep me from getting in that dumpster, with the rain coming down and the temperature dropping. I could have frozen to death!” He paused, coughed, and then laughed. “But he couldn’t haul his fat ass up and into it, so he ran off down this way.” He gestured along the route they walked.
    “That’s too bad.” Rachel projected more warmth and compassion, “Sometimes it’s best to make common cause with people who aren’t our friends—”
    “There’s no compromise with that man!” Hanson shouted.
    “Is that you, Hanson?” A voice sounded, quavering, from