James Moore - Subject Seven

And just that fast, the fight was done.

Joe looked down from his position on the roof and stared at Not-Cody as the Hyde stared at the soldiers, all of them bleeding, broken.

Despite his hesitation, Joe moved back to eavesdropping on Not-Cody’s mind, taking in his senses, his emotions, but not saying anything, merely observing. Not-Cody was interesting but also unsettling. He didn’t like that sensation at all. Not-Cody leaned over the first one, the one with the broken face. The man moaned and looked his way, but there was no sign of actual thought in those blue eyes.

“That all you got?” The man didn’t answer. “Heh. Loser.”

Joe wanted to call out-there were others to fight and Not-Cody could have helped-but instead he just observed. There was something going on inside the Hyde’s head that he wanted to understand.

Not-Cody could have charged through the building, could have gone to help the others, but instead he looked at the broken soldiers for a long moment and then shrugged.

Joe pulled away from Not-Cody’s mind when he realized what the Hyde intended to do. Not-Cody wanted to play. The first of the soldiers let out a moan and tried to sit up. He became the first toy.

Not-Gene and Not-Tina stood together at the front of the building, their hands held over their heads. What had been Gene stood on the left. What had been Tina was on the right. Both of them fully understood how the other felt. This was intoxicating. This, all of it, was life, and they were not used to it.

Joe Bronx spoke to them, his voice calm and smooth. Let them come to you. Let them think they have the advantage. When they come closer, take them down.

Not-Gene shook his head. “Why don’t we just kill them now?” He was genuinely curious, Joe could feel that.

Not-Tina nodded enthusiastically.

There are too many of them. You have eleven of them coming your way. The view from the roof had its advantages.

They looked at each other. “Eleven?” Not-Gene frowned. He was already cautious, like his Other. While Not-Gene was thinking, Not-Tina crouched down and grabbed at the cement near her feet. It was broken and her fingers broke it a second time, tearing chunks of the stuff away from the sidewalk. She squinted at the debris and heaved, pulling two substantial lumps of the sidewalk away.

She hefted the pieces, each weighing easily twenty pounds, and then stepped back from the door.

“What are you doing?” Not-Gene looked toward her, but Joe already understood. He could feel her thoughts, limited though they were. Neither of them was as fully aware as Not-Cody was yet. They were still waking from their fifteen-year naps, and they were not as capable of thought as Not-Cody. They were growing, becoming full personalities, but they weren’t there yet. What made Not-Cody so different? Joe had no idea.

Not-Tina looked to Not-Gene. “Ever go bowling?”

“No.”

“Time to learn a new game, hon.”

The door opened a moment later, and the soldiers started pouring out. They were not cautious enough. They were carrying firearms and probably thought that gave them an advantage. Not-Tina hurled a slab of concrete toward the men, taking several of them out at once.

Not-Tina let out a battle cry and jumped at the doors and the men started retreating, probably ready to piss themselves. She was a savage and Joe had been in her mind when she attacked the mobsters and took the money from them. Not-Tina was filled with rage; it was a part of her as surely as Tina shared the same body with her. Tina was loud and brash, true, but this one? She wanted blood. She wanted to break things.

Apparently Not-Gene didn’t want her to have all of the fun. “Save some for me!”

She didn’t answer. She just screamed and threw her whole body into an effort to knock a man senseless. The soldier slammed into the wall of the building and his body left a dent.

Not-Gene didn’t charge into the fray. Instead he reached for the pistol he’d shoved into his belt and checked the safety. Joe grinned again. Not-Kyrie had been trained in self-defense as a result of Kyrie taking the classes. The same was true of Not-Gene. Gene had been taught firearm safety by his father. Apparently the men in the Rothstein family went hunting. Joe could glean that much with ease. Gene was afraid of guns. Not-Gene didn’t share in that fear.

Not-Gene shot two soldiers that would have probably killed Not-Tina. Joe, meanwhile, was marveling at how savage Not-Tina was and how careful and calculating Not-Gene was in comparison. Just then Joe felt two Taser darts slam into Not-Gene’s arm. Joe shut off the mental connection he had with the Other just before the current blasted through him. On the rooftop he could hear Not-Gene scream in pain.

Tasers are interesting devices. They send electric current through the body at a voltage level that closely mimics the charge the human brain and nervous system use. The end result is a complete and very painful overload of the nervous system. Muscle control is instantly removed and most people are paralyzed for as long as the charge is administered. Normally the only damage done is in the form of two small punctures that allow the charge to contact the body directly.

Ah, but the pain they generate? That’s something else entirely. Joe had experienced it a few times and had no desire to feel it again.

Gene’s Other had never experienced pain directly before. He had never experienced much of anything before, really. He howled as the charge hit and promptly dropped to the ground. His vision blurred, his teeth clenched, his hands jittered and a deep groan came from his throat.

Just as quickly the pain vanished. The man on the other end of the long leads from the Taser looked down at him and stepped closer. “You got any kind of sense, you’re going to stay there and behave. I don’t want to juice you again.”

Not-Gene let out an animal roar and tried to stand up. He reached for the darts in his arm, intent on pulling them out, and the man hit the switch and juiced him again. The pain hit again and laid him flat. Spittle flew from his lips, and the world through his eyes lost shape and definition.

“Gunnnnna k-killl yhuuuuu… ” Without even trying, Joe could feel the Other’s frustration.

“Stay down, you idiot.” The man was talking, his lips moved, his face started to smile or to sneer; it was hard to say which.

Not-Tina took two darts in her hip and let out a shriek as the current hit her nervous system. She hit the ground, her body twitching and a long, drawn-out “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” coming from her mouth.

Joe felt their rage; their helplessness was almost as overwhelming as their fury. Not-Gene tried to sit up again and felt the current smash him backward again. There was nothing he could do, and that knowledge was worse than the pain moving through him. Joe understood that. So he sent for help, even as he and Not-Kyrie crossed the rooftop to look down on the fighting below.

Joe closed his eyes for a moment and reached out with his mind, seeing the Others around him. Not-Kyrie was right next to him, her fury abated for the moment. She was happy, enjoying the freedom that came from being awake and in control.

Not-Cody was at the back of the building, looking down at his broken toys. He could see the creature, but it was harder to understand what was going through Not-Cody’s mind than he expected. This one, he thought, could be trouble. Time would tell.

The pain he felt from Not-Gene and Not-Tina was dimmed because it was theirs. He could feel it, could register what it was, but it had little to do with him directly. Joe looked through their eyes and saw the situation.

His commands were direct and required no words, no names. He directed Not-Cody to move to the front of the building as quickly as possible and at the same time he reached down and pulled the Taser from the belt of the man who’d been giving him information very reluctantly. Not-Kyrie followed his lead and pulled another of the weapons from one of the men sprawled across the rooftop.