Chapter 122: Second Chances (1/2)

Ryan never thought he would bring a communist to Dynamis’ doorstep.

Enrique Manada’s waiting room was nearly silent, with only the sound of a secretary typing on her computer to break the monotony. Felix looked through the window, impatient to be done with the meeting, while Len’s fingers fidgeted uncontrollably. She had been in a sour mood since they arrived.

Ryan didn’t fare much better. His wounds still ached, and even his dazzling clothes couldn’t hide all the bandages beneath them. Even with a Genome’s metabolism, it would take him a few days to be back in top shape.

The courier’s eyes wandered to his adoptive sister. She had made an effort to dress well for the occasion, trading her jumpsuit for a white blouse tucked by the waist into a blue skirt. A discreet red ribbon completed the set. Though Ryan’s feelings for her had moved from romantic to brotherly over the last loops, he still found her lovely.

“Mr. Manada will receive you now,” the secretary said, causing Len’s scowl to deepen.

“You’re sure you want to come?” Ryan asked her. “I can take down the bourgeoisie on your behalf.”

“Yes,” Shortie said with a firm nod. “I need it, Riri.”

At least she had taken Alchemo’s meds before the meeting. As expected, the brain Genius had arrived yesterday with his own team, quickly confirmed Ryan’s time-travel story after analyzing his mind-map, and immediately moved on to secure the bunker. The courier trusted his allies to manage that part without him, especially with Livia at their back.

Ryan had convinced his girlfriend to delay the celebrations until they could cure Bianca though. Celebrating the Meta-Gang’s demise without her felt wrong.

The trio walked into Blackthorn’s lair, the secretary closing the doors behind them. Len paid more attention to the Japanese pond than the flowers decorating the office, while Felix glanced at the people behind the mahogany desk. Though Enrique Manada welcomed them sitting in a chair costlier than most houses, Wyvern sat right behind him in her human form, arms crossed.

“Felix,” she greeted her teammate politely.

“Wyvern,” Atom Kitten said while returning the nod, before doing the same with his other superior. “Blackthorn.”

“Atom Cat.” The superpowered gardener moved on to greet the others. “I am Enrique Manada, the Chief Brand Officer at Dynamis and Head Manager of the Il Migliore program.”

The man shook Ryan’s hand, but when he offered Shortie his own, she only responded with an icy glare.

“She respects your private property,” Ryan informed Blackthorn. “To each their own hand.”

“I see.” Enrique understood the message and moved on, the trio sitting in comfy leather chairs facing the desk. “I admit I am curious. Atom Cat told me you wanted to discuss a possible partnership with our organization.”

“I don’t see why you asked me to come as well,” Wyvern said, arms crossed. She alone refused to sit down, perhaps because she worried that the meeting might end in a fistfight.

“We wanted to have a meeting to discuss the collectivization of our economy,” Ryan declared. “The more, the merrier.”

“Uh-huh,” Enrique replied without emotion. “And the real reason?”

Len looked at the superhero manager. “Why?”

“Why what, Miss Sabino?”

“Why did you do this to my father?” Len asked harshly, venom dripping with every word. “For money? For power? Was it worth it?”

Enrique didn’t respond, his fingers interlocked into a diabolical mastermind pose. His expression remained hidden behind his mask, though the flowers around the office seemed to bristle.

Ryan searched for something under his trench coat, causing Wyvern to tense. Instead of a gun, the courier grabbed a folder and tossed it on the desk. Blackthorn made no move to read the documents inside it.

“Enrique?” Dragon Mom asked her superior, confused.

“I know what it holds,” Enrique replied calmly, though Ryan noticed an undercurrent of shame behind the stoic facade.

Wyvern frowned before glancing at Felix, who stared at Enrique with cold anger. She grabbed the folder and began to read the documents within, her skin turning as pale as chalk with the first lines. “That’s impossible,” she said as she turned the pages. “It’s fake.”

“It’s not,” Len insisted.

“You think I can believe half of what’s inside? That Dynamis turned a Psycho into a drink, or cloned me?” The superheroine shook her head. “False information spreads abound on Lab Sixty-Six and the Knockoff production process. I’ve heard all the conspiracy theories. Aliens, children’s bodily fluids...”

“Well, they’re half right,” Ryan replied.

“You can take my blood if you want,” Shortie added, while Enrique remained as silent as a tombstone. “See for yourself.”

“Underdiver, I know you attacked Dynamis installations in the past, but spreading these lies are a new low and will not help anyone.” Wyvern put the file on the desk, a picture of a Knockoff transforming into Bloodstream slime slipping out of it. “Felix, don’t tell me you believe them?”

“I do,” Felix replied grimly. “I took this picture.”

Dragon Mom remained in denial. “You were deceived. And that part about Dynamis funding the Meta-Gang is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard yet.”

This time, Enrique wordlessly glanced at the documents and examined them. He quickly reached the part about the Knockoff Elixirs deliveries to Adam, transcripts of Psyshock’s meetings with Hector Manada, and most importantly, the schematics of Dynamis brain-mapping machine.

“Where did you get these documents?” the corpo asked, doubt gnawing at him.

Len brought out a phone, activating it. The video showcased Agent Frank dutifully keeping watch over a pile of dangerous Marxist literature, trapped in an underwater prison. Wyvern immediately recognized this proud defender of democratic values. “Is that Frank the Mad?”

“This is a live feed,” Len explained, while Enrique watched on with sharp attention.

“We neutralized the Meta-Gang’s leadership, and currently hold most of their members in underwater cells,” Felix said. The video switched to Dynamis thralls being treated in an infirmary and to the Knockoff crates. “We have dozens of witnesses currently receiving medical attention. You can visit them yourself.”

Wyvern scoffed. “Felix, are you saying that you defeated the Meta-Gang by yourselves?”

“You can come to Rust Town, and check,” Len replied frostily. Her anger at Dynamis gave her confidence. “If you are willing to get down to earth and sully your clothes.”

The superheroine flinched, but quickly regained her composure. “I raided the Meta-Gang half a dozen times since they arrived in New Rome.”

“It changed nothing,” Len rasped. “Hundreds would have died if… if we hadn’t been here. Old people, children… they hoped you would come rescue them, but you never came.”

Tellingly, Dragon Mom didn’t attempt to say she did all she could. She had advocated Il Migliore attack the Meta-Gang in the past, and still wished her superiors took her suggestion to heart.

Speaking of her superiors, Enrique grabbed his own phone and started making calls. “I have been informed that some of our drones have gone missing lately, probably repurposed by the Meta-Gang,” he said, the picture of the shattered machines on the desk. “Do you confirm? Uh-huh, uh-huh… why wasn’t I informed?”

Wyvern glanced at her manager with worry. “Enrique?”

“Pack your things, you’re fired.” Enrique ended the call, and made another. “Yes, it’s me. I have been informed that Elixirs from the April production were lost, do you confirm? Uh-huh… what about the technicians from the robotic division, Team 7? Are they missing?”

“Enrique?” Wyvern asked again, more and more concerned.

Instead of answering, Dynamis’ CBO made a dozen phone calls in fifteen minutes, fact-checking every piece of information, following every lead. Ryan noticed that the flowers in the room grew more and more agitated as time went on, their petals dancing, their roots emerging from the earth. Wyvern noticed it too, and her doubt turned to horror.

In the end, Enrique put his phone on the desk, turned his chair around, and looked through the window. He couldn’t deny the truth before the overwhelming amount of evidence.

“Enrique, say something,” Wyvern demanded. “Please.”

Instead of answering her, the manager glanced at an empty spot to his left, near the window. “You can come out, Martel. I know you are here.”

Shroud became visible without warning, causing Wyvern’s eyes to shine with a green glow. Enrique stopped his ally with a nod before she could transform.

“You know me?” Shroud asked, surprised.

Blackthorn shrugged. “We have a file on you, and everyone in the Carnival.”

“Did you steal his private data?” Ryan asked mirthfully. “Dynamis should update its privacy policy charter.”

“I knew this day would come, Quicksave,” Enrique replied, while Shroud formed a seat of glass from his own armor. Blackthorn turned his seat to face the whole group. “I suppose that’s how you took down the Meta-Gang, with the Carnival’s help? Did Hargraves send you to arrest me? Or kill me?”

“No,” Len replied, though her tone didn’t soften at all. “I want answers.”

Wyvern slammed the mahogany desk so hard that its surface cracked.

Her violent reaction made everyone flinch, except Ryan and Enrique. The former, because he saw it coming; the latter, because he had expected it.

“Enrique, what’s happening?” The superheroine’s fist clenched, some of the documents falling off the desk. “Is any of this true?”

“All of it, as far as I can tell.” His voice was heavy with guilt and remorse. “All their evidence points to my father conspiring with Adam the Ogre to weaken the Augusti. As for our Elixir production process… I saw it for myself.”

By now, Il Migliore’s shining dragon was positively trembling. “Tell me this is a sick joke of some kind.”

“I wish it were.” Her manager let out a sad sigh. “The Knockoffs react violently to Miss Sabino’s blood samples. Her father put an unknown agent in her hemoglobin which removes the safeguards on our Elixirs. My brother Alphonse wanted her turned into a guinea pig so that we might remove that flaw, and perfect the production process. I put my veto on that, but—”

This time, Wyvern punched the desk and snapped it in half. Ryan quickly stopped time to save the folder and gather all the documents.

“You let Tyrano clone me? Turn me into a poison?” Wyvern asked, struggling to hold back tears. “Enrique, after all… after everything that happened between us… how could you do this?”

“Laura—”

“Your company infected this city’s population with a Psycho, Enrique!”

“When I learned the truth about how our artificial Elixirs were made, it was too late to pull the plug,” the CBO replied with remorse. “The Knockoffs had been distributed to the population. I was put before the Fait Accompli.”

“Better late than never,” Len replied angrily. “Why didn’t you just stop?”

Instead of answering immediately, Enrique slowly removed his mask and put it on his desk’s left corner.

He looked rather handsome, with perfectly groomed hair and a sexy Spanish mustache. He took a lot from his sire Hector, though with a leaner face and more skeletal features. While the father reminded Ryan of Pablo Escobar, the son looked more like a lanky Antonio Banderas.

Enrique glanced at Ryan and Len, before locking eyes with the latter. “For as little as it is worth, I want to apologize to you both,” he declared. “What my family did to yours is unforgivable, and you are within your right to hate us. I have a responsibility in hiding the truth from the population, but I never wanted any of this. This was done behind my back.”

“But you covered it up,” Felix accused him, while Wyvern wiped away tears of rage and betrayal.

“If I had revealed the scandal, Atom Cat, then Dynamis would have certainly collapsed alongside any hope of rebuilding Europe into something halfway decent,” Enrique defended himself. “Do you want Augustus to become the face of our future? We are not perfect, but at least we try to recreate society based on the rule of law. I cannot say the same for our opposition. Dynamis is the only remaining check on Augustus’ authority; the last barrier between Europe’s population and a deranged Genome suprematist.”

Enrique glanced at the window, and at Mount Augustus sticking out of the horizon. “That is why my brother lied to me and created the Knockoffs, Sabino. To try and knock these so-called gods off their thrones.”

“Yet your solution presents as great a danger to the world as Augustus,” Felix said accusingly. “Maybe even greater.”

“The Carnival didn’t give you the full reasons why we wanted Bloodstream gone to avoid a panic, and maybe we should have said the truth from the start. Our previous seer…” Shroud cleared his throat. “My mother predicted that Bloodstream would cause a worldwide disaster, if left alive. Our data proves that the risk remains even now.”

“My father…” Len’s hands fidgeted on her lap. “My father could go mad and… everyone who drank the Knockoffs…”

Ryan put a hand on her arm, and he could tell she was thankful for the emotional support. Enrique absorbed the news with gloom, while Wyvern looked fit to gag.

“Dr. Tyrano insisted that his vaccine worked,” Blackthorn said, though doubt had crept in his voice already. “That it would neutralize Bloodstream in case of a containment breach.”

“Don’t trust a reptilian to do a mammal’s job,” Ryan replied as he broke hand contact with his adoptive sister and extracted a beautiful sheet full of graphs from the folder. Blackthorn quickly grabbed it.

“Here is our plague doctor’s analysis report,” Shroud explained. “If put in contact with the blood agent in his daughter’s hemoglobin, the core of Bloodstream will regain its full power and automatically transform anyone who consumed a Knockoff into a clone of itself. And according to our simulations, it might gain the ability to do so on its own as it mutates further.”

Blackthorn sank deeper in his chair as he read. “Thousands…”

“Millions would die in the best-case scenario,” Shroud replied.

“You’ve got to stop this,” Felix insisted.

Blackthorn returned the document to Ryan. “You came to destroy Lab Sixty-Six.”

“They wanted to come in guns blazing,” the courier admitted, “but I convinced them to try finding a compromise.”

“Why?” Enrique asked dryly. “Out of all the people in this room, you should hate us the most.”

“Because although you look like a Saturday Morning Cartoon villain, I know you are anything but.” If anything, Ryan had come to see Blackthorn as the other side’s Livia, an internal reformer doomed to fail without outside help. “You’re the only hope Dynamis has of reforming into something actually good for the world.”

“We have found a treatment not only for the Bloodstream infection, but for the Psycho condition,” Shroud explained.

Though skeptical, Enrique looked willing to entertain the possibility of a cure. “Do you have proof of what you say?”