Warner just about slaps me upside the head.
He yanks me back, grabbing me roughly by the shoulder, and drags us both across the overly bright, extremely creepy laboratory.
Once we’re far enough away from Anderson, Ibrahim, and Robot J, I expect Warner to say something—anything—
He doesn’t.
The two of us watch the distant conversation grow more heated by the moment, but we can’t really hear what they’re saying from here. Though I think even if we could hear what they were saying, Warner wouldn’t be paying attention. The fight seems to have left his body. I can’t even see him right now, but I can feel it. Something about his movements, his quiet sighs.
His mind is on Juliette.
Juliette, who looks the same. Better, in fact. She looks healthy, her eyes bright, her skin glowing. Her hair is down—long, heavy, dark—the way it was the first time I ever saw her.
But she’s not the same. Even I can see that. And it’s devastating.
I guess this is somehow better than if she’d replaced Emmaline altogether, but this weird, robotic, super-soldier version of J is also deeply concerning.
I think.
I keep waiting for Warner to finally break the silence, to give me some indication of his feelings and/or theories on the matter—and maybe, while he’s at it, offer me his professional opinion on what the hell we should be doing next—but the seconds continue to pass in perfect silence.
Finally, I give up.
“All right, get it out,” I whisper. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Warner lets out a long breath. “This doesn’t make sense.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I get that. Nothing makes sense in situations like these. I always feel like it’s unfair, you know, like the worl
—”
“I’m not being philosophical,” Warner says, cutting me off. “I mean it literally doesn’t make sense. Nouria and Sam said that Operation Synthesis would turn Ella into a super soldier—and that once the program went into effect, the result would be irreversible.
“But this is not Operation Synthesis,” he says. “Operation Synthesis is literally about synthesizing Ella’s and Emmaline’s powers, and right now, there’s no—”
“Synthesis,” I say. “I get it.”
“This doesn’t feel right. They did things out of order.”
“Maybe they freaked out after Evie’s attempt to wipe J’s mind didn’t work. Maybe they needed to find a way to fix that fail, and quick. I mean, it’s much easier to keep her around if she’s docile, right? Loyal to their interests. It’s much easier than keeping her in a holding cell, anyway. Babysitting her constantly. Monitoring her every movement. Always worried she’s going to magic the toilet paper into a shiv and break out.
“Honestly”—I shrug—“it feels to me like they’re just getting lazy. I think they’re sick and tired of J always breaking out and fighting back. This is literally the path of least resistance.”
“Yes,” Warner says slowly. “Exactly.” “Wait— Exactly what?”
“Whatever they did to her—prematurely initiating this phase—was done hastily. It was a patch job.”
A lightbulb flickers to life in my head. “Which means their work was sloppy.”
“And if their work was sloppy—” “—there are definitely holes in it.”
“Stop finishing my sentences,” he says, irritated. “Stop being so predictable.”
“Stop acting like a child.” “You stop acting like a child.” “You are being ridicu—”
Warner goes suddenly silent as Ibrahim’s shaking, angry voice booms across the laboratory.
“I said, get out of the way.”
“I can’t let you do this,” Anderson says, his voice growing louder. “Did you not just hear that alarm? Santiago is out. They took out yet another supreme commander. How much longer are we going to let this go on?”
“Juliette,” Ibrahim says sharply. “You’re coming with me.” “Yes, sir.”
“Juliette, stop,” Anderson demands. “Yes, sir.”
What the hell is happening?
Warner and I dart forward to get a better look, but it doesn’t matter how close we get; I still can’t believe my eyes.
The scene is surreal.
Anderson is guarding Juliette. The same Anderson who’s spent so much of his energy trying to murder her—is now standing in front of her with his arms out, guarding her with his life.
What the hell happened while she was here? Did Anderson get a new brain? A new heart? A parasite?
And I know I’m not alone in my confusion when I hear Warner mutter, “What on earth?” under his breath.
“Stop being foolish,” Anderson says. “You’re taking advantage of a tragedy to make an unauthorized decision, when you know as well as I do that we all need to agree on something this important before moving forward. I’m just asking you to wait, Ibrahim. Wait for the others to return, and we’ll put it to a vote. Let the council decide.”
Ibrahim pulls a gun on Anderson.
Ibrahim pulls a gun on Anderson.
I nearly lose my shit. I gasp so loud I almost blow our cover.
“Step aside, Paris,” he says. “You’ve already ruined this mission. I’ve given you dozens of chances to get this right. You gave me your word that we’d intercept the children before they even stepped foot in the building, and look how that turned out. You’ve promised me—all of us—time and time again that you would make this right, and instead all you do is cost us our time, our money, our power, our lives. Everything.
“It’s now up to me to make this right,” Ibrahim says, anger making his voice unsteady. He shakes his head. “You don’t even understand, do you? You don’t understand how much Evie’s death has cost us. You don’t understand how much of our success was built with her genius, her technological advances. You don’t understand that Max will never be what Evie was—that he could never replace her. And you don’t seem to understand that she’s no longer here to forgive your constant mistakes.
“No,” he says. “It’s up to me now. It’s up to me to fix things, because I’m the only one with his head on straight. I’m the only one who seems to grasp the enormity of what’s ahead of us. I’m the only one who sees how close we are to complete and utter ruination. I am determined to make this right, Paris, even if it means taking you out in the process. So step aside.”
“Be reasonable,” Anderson says, his eyes wary. “I can’t just step aside. I want our movement—everything we’ve worked so hard to build—I want it to be a success, too. Surely you must realize that. You must realize that I haven’t given up my life for nothing; you must know that my loyalty is to you, to the council, to The Reestablishment. But you must also know that she’s worth too much. I can’t let this go so easily. We’ve come too far. We’ve all made too many sacrifices to screw this up now.”
“Don’t force my hand, Paris. Don’t make me do this.”
J steps forward, about to say something, and Anderson pushes her body behind him. “I ordered you to remain silent,” he says, glancing back at her. “And I am now ordering you to remain safe, at all costs. Do you hear me, Juliette? Do y—”
When the shot rings out, I don’t believe it.
I think my mind is playing tricks on me. I think this is some kind of weird interlude—a strange dream, a moment of confusion—I keep waiting for the scene to change. Clear. Reset.
It doesn’t.
No one thought it would happen like this. No one thought the supreme commanders would destroy themselves. No one thought we’d see Anderson felled by one his own, no one thought he’d clutch his bleeding chest and use his last gasp of breath to say:
“Run, Juliette. Run—”
Ibrahim shoots again, and this time, Anderson goes silent. “Juliette,” Ibrahim says, “you’re coming with me.”
J doesn’t move.
She’s frozen in place, staring at Anderson’s still figure. It’s so weird. I keep waiting for him to wake up. I keep waiting for his healing powers to kick in. I keep waiting for that annoying moment when he comes back to life, clutching a pocket square to his wound—
But he doesn’t move.
“Juliette,” Ibrahim says sharply. “You will answer to me now. And I am ordering you to follow me.”
J looks up at him. Her face is blank. Her eyes are blank. “Yes, sir,” she says.
And that’s when I know.
That’s when I know exactly what’s going to happen next. I can feel it, can feel some strange electricity in the air before he makes his move. Before he blows our cover.
Warner pulls back his invisibility.
He stands there motionless for only a moment, for just long enough for Ibrahim to register his presence, to cry out, to reach for his gun. But he’s not fast enough.
Warner is standing ten feet away when Ibrahim goes suddenly slack, when he chokes and the gun slips from his hand, when his eyes bulge. A thin red line appears in the middle of Ibrahim’s forehead, a terrifying trickle of blood that precipitates the sudden, soft sound of his skull breaking open. It’s the sound of tearing flesh, an innocuous sound that reminds me of ripping open an orange. And it doesn’t take long before Ibrahim’s knees hit the floor. He falls without grace, his body collapsing into itself.
I know he’s dead because I can see directly into his skull. Clumps of his fleshy brain matter leak out onto the floor.
This, I think, is the kind of horrifying shit J is capable of.
This is what she’s always been capable of. She’s just always been too good a person to use it.
Warner, on the other hand—
He doesn’t even seem bothered by the fact that he just ripped open a man’s skull. He seems totally calm about the brain matter dripping on the floor. No, he’s only got eyes for J, who’s staring back at him, confused. She glances from Ibrahim’s limp body to Anderson’s limp body and she throws her arms forward with a sudden, desperate cry—
And nothing happens.
Robo J has no idea that Warner can absorb her powers.
Warner takes a step toward her and she narrows her eyes before slamming her fist into the floor. The room begins to shake. The floor begins to fissure. My teeth are rattling so hard I lose my balance, slam against the wall, and accidentally pull back my invisibility. When Juliette spots me, she screams.
I fly out of the way, throwing myself forward, diving over a table. Glass crashes to the floor, shatters everywhere.
I hear someone groan.
I peek through the legs of a table just in time to see Anderson begin to move. This time, I actually gasp.
The whole world seems to pause.
Anderson struggles up, to his feet. He doesn’t look okay. He looks sick, pale—an imitation of his former self. Something is wrong with his healing power, because he looks only half-alive, blood oozing from two places on his torso. He sways as he gets to his feet, coughing up blood. His skin goes gray. He uses his sleeve to wipe blood from his mouth.
J goes rushing toward him, but Anderson lifts a hand in her direction, and she halts. His bleak face registers a moment of surprise as he gazes at Ibrahim’s dead body.
He laughs. Coughs. Wipes away more blood.
“Did you do this?” he says, his eyes locked on his own kid. “You did me a favor.”
“What have you done to her?” Warner demands.
Anderson smiles. “Why don’t I show you?” He glances at J. “Juliette?” “Yes, sir.”
“Kill them.” “Yes, sir.”
J moves forward just as Anderson pulls something from his pocket, aiming its sharp, blue light in Warner’s direction. This time, when J throws her arm out, Warner goes flying, his body slamming hard against the stone wall.
He falls to the floor with a gasp, the wind knocked from his lungs, and I take advantage of the moment to rush forward, pulling my invisibility around us both.
He shoves me away.
“Come on, bro, we have to get out of here— This isn’t a fair fight—”
“You go,” he says, clutching his side. “Go find Nazeera, and then find the other kids. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not going to be fine,” I hiss. “She’s going to kill you.” “That’s fine, too.”
“Don’t be stupid—”
The metal tables providing us our only bit of cover go flying, crashing hard against the opposite wall. I take one last glance at Warner and make a split-second decision.
I throw myself into the fight.
I know I only have a second before my brain matter joins Ibrahim’s on the floor, so I make it count. I pull my gun from its holster and shoot three, four times.
Five.
Six.
I bury lead in Anderson’s body until he’s knocked back by the force of it, sagging to the floor with a hacking, bloody cough. J rushes forward but I disappear, darting behind a table, and once the weapon in Anderson’s hand clatters to the floor, I shoot that, too. It pops and cracks, briefly catching fire as the tech explodes.
J cries out, falling to her knees beside him.
“Kill them,” Anderson gasps, blood staining the edges of his lips. “Kill them all. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”
“Yes, sir,” Juliette says.
Anderson coughs. Fresh blood seeps from his wounds.
J gets to her feet and turns around, scanning the room for us, but I’m already rushing over to Warner, throwing my invisibility over us both. Warner seems a little stunned, but he’s miraculously uninjured.
I try to help him to his feet, and for the first time, he doesn’t push away my arm. I hear him inhale. Exhale.
Never mind, he’s a little injured.
I wait for him to do something, say something, but he just stands there, staring at J. And then—
He pulls back his invisibility. I nearly scream.
J pivots when she spots him, and immediately runs forward. She picks up a table, throws it at us.
We dive out of the way so hard I nearly break my nose against the ground. I can still hear things shattering around us when I say,
“What the hell were you thinking? You just blew our chance to get out of here!”
Warner shifts, glass crunching beneath him. He’s breathing hard.
“I was serious about what I said, Kishimoto. You should go. Find Nazeera. But this is where I need to be.”
“You mean you need to be getting killed right now? That’s where you need to be? Do you even hear yourself ?”
“Something is wrong,” Warner says, dragging himself to his feet. “Her mind is trapped, trapped inside of something. A program. A virus. Whatever it is, she needs help.”
J screams, sending another earthquake through the room. I slam into a table and stumble backward. A sharp pain shoots through my gut and I suck in my breath. Swear.
Warner has one arm out against the wall, steadying himself. I can tell he’s about to step forward, directly into the fight, and I grab his arm, pull him back.
“I’m not saying we give up on her, okay? I’m saying that there has to be another way. We need to get out of here, regroup. Come up with a better plan.”
“No.”
“Bro, I don’t think you understand.” I glance at J, who’s stalking forward, eyes burning, the ground fissuring before her. “She’s really going to kill you.”
“Then I will die.” That’s it.
Warner’s last words before he leaves.
He meets J in the middle of the room and she doesn’t hesitate before taking a violent swing at his face.
He blocks.
She swings again. He blocks. She kicks. He ducks. He’s not fighting her.
He only matches her, move for move, meeting her blows, anticipating her mind. It reminds me of his fight with Anderson back at the Sanctuary—how he never struck his father, only defended himself. It was obvious then that he was just trying to enrage his father.
But this—
This is different. It’s clear that he’s not enjoying this. He’s not trying to enrage her, and he’s not trying to defend himself. He’s fighting her for her. To protect her.
To save her, somehow.
And I have no idea if this is going to work.
J clenches her fists and screams. The walls shake, the floor continues to crack open. I stumble, catch myself against a table.
And I’m just standing here like an idiot, racking my brain for a clue, trying to figure out what to do, how to help—
“Holy shit,” Nazeera says. “What the hell is going on?”
Relief floods through me fast and hot. I have to resist the impulse to pull her invisible body into my arms. To tuck her close to my chest and keep her from leaving again.
Instead, I pretend to be cool.
“How’d you get here?” I ask. “How’d you find us?”
“I was hacking the systems, remember? I saw you on the cameras. You guys aren’t exactly being quiet up here.”
“Right. Good point.”
“Hey, I have news, by the way, I foun—” She cuts herself off abruptly, her words fading to nothing. And then, after a beat, she says quietly:
“Who killed my dad?”
My stomach turns to stone.
I take a sharp breath before I say, “Warner did that.” “Oh.”
“You okay?”
I hear her exhale. “I don’t know.” J screams again and I look up.
She’s furious.
I can tell, even from here, that she’s frustrated. She can’t use her powers on Warner directly, and he’s too good a fighter to be beat without an edge. She’s resorted to throwing very large, very heavy objects at him. Whatever she can find. Random medical equipment. Pieces of the wall.
This is not good.
“He wouldn’t leave,” I tell Nazeera. “He wanted to stay. He thinks he can help her.”
She sighs. “We should let him try. In the interim, I could use your help.”
I turn, reflexively, to face her, forgetting for a moment that she’s invisible. “Help with what?” I ask.
“I found the other kids,” she says. “That’s why I was gone for so long. Getting that security clearance for you guys was way easier than I thought it’d be. So I stuck around to do some deep-level hacking into the cameras— and I found out where they’re hiding the other supreme kids. But it’s not pretty. And I could use a hand.”
I look up to catch one last glimpse of Warner. Of J.
But they’re gone.
