Chapter 23 Mystery Cargo

  Good news. No more enemy capes or enemy reinforcements had shown up on this level.

  Even better, Nightgard hadn’t finished opening the cargo yet.

  I could use some backup, though.

  “Almost finished,” commented Nightgard. "Just a little bit more."

  I crouched low, staying hidden in the shadows as I took a moment to assess the situation. Wormhole stood beside Nightgard, keeping a watchful eye while the latter worked on the cargo’s lock. Nightgard’s hands glowed faintly with a cybernetic hue, the telltale sign of technopathic interference. The clicks and whirrs coming from the cargo suggested he was close to cracking it.

  I gritted my teeth. Where was Mathilda when I needed her to send more capes? Someone, anyone, to keep the pressure off me.

  I’d love to rest longer, but there was no way I could afford that luxury. This was it... my one and only chance. The moment Nightgard opened the cargo, Wormhole would snatch the package and zap away with both it and his technopath buddy. Game over.

  The logical choice was clear: take out Nightgard first.

  Without him, the cargo stayed locked, and Wormhole couldn’t do much beyond running. But killing Nightgard would alert Wormhole, who’d escape with the knowledge of my existence. I didn't want more 'murders' on my rap sheet if I could help it.

  And that was a problem.

  A dangerous cape like me wasn’t someone who could remain anonymous if stories spread. As an independent operator, I’d be hunted, scrutinized, and eventually dragged into conflicts I didn’t want. Leaving witnesses was bad business. I knew it would be inevitable, but it wouldn’t hurt for my anonymity to last a bit longer.

  Still, this particular level seemed quite isolated. No reinforcements had arrived so far, which meant it was just the three of us. If I were smart about this, I could eliminate them both without tipping anyone off... just how deep in the killing business I planned to be...

  I reached into my utility belt and checked my remaining arsenal. My deck of cards was looking thin, maybe a quarter of what I’d started with. I frowned. A limited hand meant I’d have to be more precise than ever.

  I pulled out a morphine syringe and injected it into my thigh, wincing at the sting. My muscles relaxed slightly, the tension and pain from my earlier fight ebbing away. It wasn’t much, but it’d help me last just a bit longer.

  Now, back to the issue at hand.

  Nightgard was a Technopath-5. That rating probably meant he could interface with and control most machines, even advanced ones, but he might have additional abilities tied to his technopathy. I had to be ready for surprises.

  Wormhole, on the other hand, was a Teleporter-6. His powers let him create literal wormholes: instant portals to anywhere within his range. He could use those portals defensively, offensively, or as a perfect countermeasure against my projectiles. A nightmare opponent.

  I clenched my fists, running through the options in my head. Who to prioritize?

  Nightgard was the immediate threat because of the cargo. If I didn’t stop him, the mission was over. But Wormhole? He was the slippery one. If I couldn’t kill him, he’d escape, and my very limited anonymity would be blown.

  The stakes were dizzying, but I forced myself to focus. Think, Eclipse. Think.

  Nightgard wasn’t a physical threat. If I reached him, I could neutralize him quickly. Wormhole, though? His mobility made him nearly impossible to pin down. I needed a strategy to catch him off guard.

  I glanced at the shadows surrounding the room, noting the positions of crates and support beams. If I could manipulate the environment to limit Wormhole’s line of sight, I might be able to predict where his portals would appear.

  The morphine was kicking in now, sharpening my focus despite my exhaustion. My breathing steadied.

  I pulled a card from my deck, running my thumb along its edge. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.

  No room for mistakes.

  I exhaled slowly and made my decision.

  Nightgard first. Wormhole would come after.

  I melted into the shadows, preparing for the first strike.

  Nightgard was stationary, meaning I could sneak up on him from underground while intangible. But there was a problem... my movement speed was significantly reduced when phasing through matter. Every step felt like trudging through wet cement, a slow, deliberate process that eliminated any chance of a quick ambush.

  And then there was Wormhole. One wrong move and he’d drop me through one of his portals, likely depositing me straight into the sea or somewhere equally deadly. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the margin for error was razor-thin.

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  Finally, I reached the spot where I believed Nightgard was standing. I couldn’t see him while underground, but the faint vibrations of his movement guided me. He wasn’t pacing, which made things easier. I just needed him unaware for a moment longer.

  Nightgard’s power set was a dangerous mix. His ability to download, upload, and create programs in his head essentially turned him into a walking database, complementing his Enhancer-3 and Researcher-1 ratings. A hybrid of intellect and physicality... annoying to deal with.

  I burst forth from the floor with full intangibility, feinting a cross chop at his neck as I emerged.

  “Nightgard!” Wormhole’s voice tore through the air.

  The sudden warning spooked Nightgard into throwing a blind punch at me, his reflexes surprisingly sharp. But no amount of martial arts training could have prepared him for what happened next as his fist phased harmlessly through my intangible form.

  Before he could recover, I shifted tactics, dropping my feint and wrapping him in a tight rear chokehold. My arm snaked around his neck as I became fully tangible, locking him in place.

  “Hello~! Freeze, everyone… I have an ace of spades intangibly embedded on Nightgard’s noggin.” I greeted in a casual, almost sing-song tone, masking the fatigue tightening my chest. “The name’s Eclipse, by the way. Intangibility-dunno-what-number... maybe four? Or higher? Who’s counting?”

  To punctuate my introduction, I pressed my ace of spades deeper against Nightgard’s temple. The card shimmered faintly, a clear threat as its intangible edges hovered inside his skull.

  “Think before you act, Wormhole,” I continued, my voice calm but laced with steel. “Same goes for you, Nightgard. Unless you want me to make this card tangible. Trust me, you won’t like what will happen next if you don't play ball.”

  Wormhole froze a few feet away, his stance tense. His fingers twitched, likely itching to create a wormhole to counter me. But he didn’t move further. Not yet.

  Nightgard, to his credit, didn’t flail or panic. His breathing was heavy, and I could feel the tension in his muscles as he fought against the instinct to struggle. Smart man. He knew the stakes.

  “Let him go,” Wormhole growled, his voice low and measured. “You don’t want this fight.”

  I let out a soft laugh. “Oh, Wormhole, you’re adorable. If I didn’t want this fight, do you think I’d be here right now? Please. Use that big teleporting brain of yours.”

  Wormhole’s eyes darted between me and Nightgard, calculating. I could see the gears turning in his head, but I wasn’t about to give him the time to finish that thought.

  “Tick-tock,” I said, my tone turning sharp. “Here’s how this is going to work. Nightgard and I are going to have a little chat. You’re going to stay right there like a good boy. Try anything funny, and I make this ace of spades the last thing Nightgard ever thinks about. Clear?”

  Wormhole didn’t reply immediately, but the way his jaw clenched told me he understood.

  Good. Now, let’s see how much leverage I could milk from this.

  “Nightgard,” I said, tightening my grip just enough to make his breathing hitch. “Tell me what’s inside this particular cargo and why the SRC and Vanguard want it so badly.”

  For a moment, the only sound was Nightgard’s strained breathing. Wormhole stood frozen a few steps away, his eyes darting between us, clearly calculating his next move. My fingers pressed harder on the partway-intangible ace of spades embedded in Nightgard’s temple, the slight shimmer of its intangible form acting as both a promise and a threat.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Nightgard wheezed, his voice gravelly. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “Enlighten me,” I replied, keeping my tone light but with an edge sharp enough to slice steel. “Because right now, I don’t see how I’m the one in trouble.”

  He grunted, struggling against my hold but wisely avoiding any sudden movements. “It’s… It’s classified,” he spat, as if that was going to be enough to stop me. "Trust me, you'd rather not know."

  I chuckled darkly. “Classified? Oh, Nightgard, that’s adorable. But let’s be real. You’re one bad card flip away from being a corpse, so let’s skip the red tape and get to the part where you tell me what I need to know. What’s in the cargo?”

  Nightgard hesitated, and I could feel the tension in his body shift. He was stalling, either hoping for Wormhole to intervene or trying to figure out a way to turn the situation to his advantage. I wasn’t going to give him the chance.

  “Fine,” I said, leaning in so my voice was low and menacing. “Let’s play a game. I’ll guess. You nod if I’m close, and if you don’t…” I pressed the card just a fraction deeper, enough for him to gasp. “Well, I’ll get creative.”

  Nightgard cursed under his breath, but I ignored him, throwing out my first guess.

  “Some kind of weapon, right? A big, shiny doomsday device the Vanguard wants to keep off the streets?”

  Nothing. Not even a flinch.

  “Okay, not a weapon. How about a super-serum? A cure for some disease?”

  Still no reaction. His silence was starting to annoy me.

  “Alright,” I said, my voice dropping lower. “Let me try again. Maybe it’s not what’s in the cargo that’s important. Maybe it’s who.”

  That did it. His body tensed, a flicker of panic breaking through his stoic facade.

  “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere.” I smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “There’s someone in there, isn’t there? Someone important enough for you and the SRC to send a small army to retrieve them.”

  Wormhole shifted uneasily, and I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He didn’t say anything, but the way his jaw tightened confirmed I was on the right track.

  “Who’s in the box, Nightgard?” I demanded, my tone turning cold. “A cape? A scientist? Someone with information you don’t want getting out?”

  Nightgard didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes.

  “Fine,” I said, dragging him a few steps closer to Wormhole, using him as a shield. “I’ll open the cargo myself and find out. But first, I’ll make sure you’re not around to stop me.”

  Wormhole took a step forward, his fists clenching. “Let him go, Mask. You’re making this worse for yourself.”

  I laughed, the sound harsh and sharp. “Oh, Wormhole. It’s already bad. I’m just deciding how much worse it gets for you.”

  I lied. I had no intention of opening that cargo, but I needed to know what was inside. If it were a scientist, I wanted to know their field of expertise. If it were a cape, I needed their power ratings. Names didn’t matter to me; in fact, I preferred to stay ignorant. That way, if a telepath ever dug through my mind after this mission, I could claim plausible deniability.

  But something about the cargo and everything just wouldn't sit right with me... and it was making me uncomfortable.

  I leaned hard into intimidation. I’d read somewhere that fear worked best when paired with rational and immediate danger.

  “I don’t need you to spill every detail,” I said, my voice calm and deliberate. “Not if you don’t want to, of course. I can always find another way. Like cutting your skull open, for example. You see, I’d be perfectly satisfied just knowing the power ratings or the field specialization of whoever’s locked up in that cargo. Your call.”

  Nightgard’s resolve cracked. Finally, he relented, his voice low and begrudging.

  “Precog-9.”

  Motherfucker. Nine?! Precog?!

  "You got to be shitting me."