I followed Mary down to the kitchen. Wendy was already sitting there, looking at us curiously. Her hair no longer covered her face. Wendy was drinking tea and eating reheated pancakes with boiled condensed milk, cut into small, even pieces. Mary put a plate of pizza in front of her and bit into the first slice. No one offered me any food, which prompted me to ask the obvious question:
"Good morning, girls. How do you usually have breakfast in your families?
"Family?" Wendy said in surprise.
"You probably meant pride, Peter. Families are only for animals.
"Well, Mary, I didn't study biology in high school! And I don't remember my parents. Tell me, what is a pride?
"People live in prides. A boy must choose three, or better yet, seven women by the time he comes of age, and register a pride with them. Usually, a pride consists of seven women and one man, although there can be more women. The law prohibits prides with fewer wives, but there are exceptions. And in the wasteland, there are no laws at all.
"I see. And if I start a pride first and then find my relatives, what would that be called?
"Your father's wives, except for your mother, are called aunts, and your father's other children are called sisters. Or brothers, if your father is very lucky. Other relatives can be called a clan if the family is old or wealthy. Clans honour traditions and are ruled by the clan chief. Traditionally, the head of the clan is called the Queen, because the most famous clan in the world is the English monarchy. Clans place their traditions above the laws of the state, but the courts do not recognise the supremacy of tradition over the law, so clans try to transfer all interaction with the outside world to corporations, most often with the same name. The Osborn clan and the Osborn corporation, for example. Within the clan, Norma Osborn may be called Queen, but to everyone else she is simply the mistress of Oz Corp. Corporations are subject to state law, which does not violate clan traditions, and prides not related by blood to the clan can join the corporation, so the corporation is run by a board of directors rather than a mistress.
"So you're both Queens, and I have to sit here hungry?
"There are no Queens in the stalker clans of the wasteland, Peter," said Wendy.
The microwave beeped to signal that it was done defrosting, and a plate with pancakes, a knife and a fork flew towards me.
"Hot," Wendy commented on the delay.
"Thanks.
I cut off a piece," I said, "it didn't turn out as neat as Ghost's," and continued the conversation.
"How badly was the city damaged?
"There were many places on Long Island that weren't looted, but the island is well guarded. It seems they've already started rebuilding; the war ended over a year ago.
"I have a diorama," Wendy boasted.
"A miniature model of modern New York? Can you show it to me?" I asked with interest.
The mutant was very proud of her handiwork. The ghost turned into a ball with eyes and began jumping around me, delighted by my interest. With an effort of will, I switched my "sandy" vision, which I had acquired along with a dose of her emotions, back to normal. Quickly finishing my breakfast, I got up, and Wendy immediately ran to the diorama, pulling me after her. Mary stayed in the kitchen.
We went down to the basement and further down several flights of stairs to Wendy's underground workshop. The diorama was right at the entrance, unprotected, and behind it, in the depths of the dimly lit cave, was a pile of junk. The only sources of light in the workshop were the street lamps in the miniature town. Three islands rose from the sandy "sea." Manhattan was unlike anything else around it, covered with fairy-tale castles and landmarks from around the world. Wendy had also placed the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building in their proper places.
Staten Island was covered with low houses, and on the shore, on the mainland side, a bizarrely shaped building with a domed roof rose like a palace.
Long Island looked the worst, with ruins neighbouring boring concrete boxes, but it seemed to reflect its real condition. There weren't many ruins, and almost all of them were on the Manhattan side.
Mary ran into the workshop and threw herself into my arms, knocking the torch off the miniature Statue of Liberty on her way.
"I've figured out what I'm going to do today!" she said.
"Great! Just don't break the diorama, we'll need it later."
"What? It's better this way, look, now the statue is almost like the real thing!" Mary pouted indignantly. I could feel her embarrassment, and her weight in my arms became imperceptible.
"Just break off the head, and it'll be exactly the same," she continued, waving her foot towards the figurine. I moved away and Mary missed.
"Well, you'll break it off next time. Now tell me what you're up to.
"I'm going to go scout around, find out how many people have returned and what has changed.
"Well, well... Sometimes you know how to use your head.
"The rest of the time, I try not to worry about it. You know, I actually need to kill the most powerful person in this city, which is almost impossible and is driving me crazy. But if I go crazy, she'll win.
"Your thirst for revenge sometimes turns into obsession! I'll go with you so you don't do anything stupid.
"Oh, come on! You'll just get in my way. Stay here and don't stick your neck out, there are many dangers in the wasteland.
I didn't argue. Even if I could convince her that I was useful, it would look like she was doing me a favour. I needed to build our relationship so that the girls obeyed me, otherwise I would only get their abilities when they wanted to fuck me, not when I needed superpowers. Mary kissed me on the nose goodbye and ran away.
I held out my hand and Wendy sat on it, looking at me with her huge eyes.
"You're so much fun! Do you want to go to town with me?
Sand trickled through my fingers. Wendy was very frightened by my suggestion to leave the den. Fear transferred abilities much better than fun, so I started experimenting with the sand. I needed to learn how to use sand in battle or find a way to quickly move my body through space.
I waved my hand and lifted a three-metre-long strip of sand. I tried to add a little more, but at that distance, control became completely unreliable, which was unacceptable for my idea. I closed my eyes, lowered my arms, and tried to relax. Wendy's emotions, although they fuelled me, were also very distracting. Her fear made me irritable and anxious.
"Wendy, hug me. I'm not so scared when you're near me," I lied. Let her think that hugs help me cope with fear. She pressed herself against me, like a thin layer of something soft, warm, and rough.
I couldn't scatter the grains of sand as fast or as much as Wendy did when she cut things, but I could form sharp teeth out of them and rotate them on a strip of sand like a chainsaw. I held Wendy closer to me and began to try to carry out my plan. We both gradually calmed down, and after five minutes I was able to add triangular protrusions to the edges of the strip. I managed to make them rotate only half an hour after we started hugging, when tenderness and desire completely replaced fear. These emotions proved to be less suitable for transferring power, but not critically so. They didn't make me feel like I was about to have a breakdown, which was much more important. On the contrary, they helped me calm down and focus, so that an hour later I was freely waving two three-metre saws with wildly spinning blades without using my hands.
"I have to go.
I pulled the sand from the blades towards me and hid it along my forearms. I turned the swords around a couple of times and cheerfully headed for the exit.
"Why?
"The people are back, Wendy. Aren't you curious?
"There's no one for me to go back to.
"You said everyone was gone.
"The neighbours disappeared. I was left all alone.
"The world has changed. For me, this is the only chance to take my rightful place in it. The only chance to gain strength, and through it, freedom.
"You have strength.
"You do too. But it doesn't give you freedom; you're tied here.
"Do you think it's possible to live differently?
"I know for sure that you can live without fear, without being ashamed of who you are. And freedom... It's worth trying.
"Try what?
"Anything, Wendy.
She fell silent and hugged me tighter. I left the house and started walking down the path when I heard her voice again:
"The city is on the other side, Peter...
I smiled, turned on my heel and headed in the right direction.
On the way, I took out the sand swords and started turning them into rollers. Wendy realised what I was trying to do and quickly made me a sample. It spun just like the blades, only without the sharp edges. Although, if you added spikes, you could ride on any surface in any direction, but the surface would be destroyed in the process. When I left the lair, a motorcycle made of sand was already waiting for me. I walked around it, oohing and aahing over the machine. I could feel her pride; Wendy was very pleased that she had been able to impress me.
"My home has become my prison!" I sang, making a small change to the bike's design.
"I waited for a friend to understand me! To understand and say, 'Go for it!' But my friend wandered among his own walls..." I continued, saddling my sandy horse.
"The asphalt was burning! From the sun and the stars! The asphalt was burning! Under the noise of the wheels!" I modified the bike so that it actually set the asphalt on fire behind it. This greatly reduced the speed, so after playing around with it for a while, I let Wendy restore it to its original state. We immediately took off, and I continued singing:
"I decided to take the risk myself. No one shouted, 'Look out!' And I painted my helmet black!" – Wendy created a helmet covered in coal dust. She always carried a small supply of coloured particles with her for special effects. Impervious to light, it didn't interfere with my "sand" vision.
"There was a moment" — I believed in signs of good luck, because I was young and passionate. But my double was rushing towards me... He was free, just like me. No one shouted, "Brake!" Such an order is unknown to fate.
"The asphalt was burning!" Wendy sang unexpectedly.
"From the stars knocked out of the sky!" I replied.
"The asphalt was burning!" the Ghost repeated again.
"Under the noise of the wheels!" I picked up, and without letting her join in, continued:
"The asphalt screamed! I was its hero! The asphalt screamed! Pain screamed!
We drove in silence for several minutes, Wendy even forgot to make noise with the wheels.
"This is a song about death. Why are you singing it?
"About death. About the unattainability of freedom. About home, about fear. But most of all, it's about you and me, Wendy. And in fact... he didn't die. There's more to the story.
After those words, I felt a slight sadness and determination, a willingness to do anything. I sensed the same feelings from Ghost, and at the same time, I received a powerful surge of her strength. It seems that when we experience the same emotions, my abilities work at their best. In a state of emotional unity, we didn't need words, so we remained silent.
Shots rang out ahead, the crack of many small-calibre barrels. I turned to drive around the miraculously intact wall of the house and saw a barbed wire checkpoint, or rather a fence made of concrete slabs and closed gates. They were about two hundred metres away, and I could already hear the screams of the dying defenders.
Wendy was scared again, but I remained calm. It was useless to ask her to go ahead and see what was happening, so I had to get closer. Through the fence, I saw a one-story barracks made of panels with many beds and a common dining room. Inside, there were several corpses. The woman closest to the entrance to the barracks didn't even have time to get out of bed before she was shot through the chest. The rest ran to the window but didn't make it and now lay in the passageway in a pile of mangled limbs. The monster that had killed the fighters left the barracks, breaking through the wall.
A loud explosion drowned out Wendy's words — she could see much further than me and had recognised something that made her worry. There was a second explosion, and the Ghost rushed over the fence. I jumped over after her, placing a sand ramp in front of my motorcycle. I landed without it, but with my saws deployed. I ran around the barracks and finally understood what was happening. Mary hadn't been able to resist and had done something stupid.
On the opposite side of the checkpoint was a second barracks, which Mary had also cleared, but from there she was shot at with automatic weapons, and some of the female warriors managed to escape towards the safety of the headquarters bunker. They didn't reach their goal, but Mary found herself right in front of the loopholes, where she was shot twice with a grenade launcher. Now Wendy was trying to carry her to safety, but she didn't seem to understand that she needed to carry the stunned supergirl in her chitin suit with a scorpion tail to the roof of the bunker, not away from it. The embrasures allowed the entire perimeter to be fired upon.
And as if that weren't enough, a vigilante was already running out of the bunker. With the shrill screech of servo motors, she rushed to finish off the chitinous monster and avenge her fallen sisters-in-arms. She didn't notice me and ran past. I reacted too late and only managed to reach her with the tip of my sword, tearing a chunk of flesh from her back. If the vigilantes had armour anywhere other than their chests, I wouldn't have been able to hurt her at all.
With a gurgling sound, the warrior fell to the ground, and I ran towards the closing door of the bunker. At the last moment, I noticed a flash of a shot, and my heart skipped a beat, expecting a grenade explosion. It didn't come. I looked back and saw that Wendy had dropped Mary and was flying to intercept the grenade. She managed to deflect the projectile, but when she turned back to Mary, the grenade exploded inside the sandbag, scattering it all over the parade ground.
It all happened so fast that the bunker door barely moved. I ran inside and realised I couldn't swing my swords here, so I instinctively turned them into serrated discs and threw them at the female officer who was looking back at me. The revolver grenade launcher rolled across the floor along with the severed arm, and part of the head slid to the side, splattering blood all over the bunker.
Everything fell silent.
Only the ringing in my ears remained from the tension of the last few seconds. Could they both be dead? It couldn't be! You can't kill Mary that easily, I've seen how many explosions she can survive. But Wendy? Did I pull her out of the house only for her to die because of me? I was afraid to approach the blood-spurting stump of the checkpoint commander, afraid to look outside. I opened the bunker door again, and Mary Jane almost ran into me.
"Did you kill them all?
"Everyone. What about Wendy?
"Did you bring her here too?
"She actually saved your ass from a grenade!
"I... I had everything under control! Those firecrackers can't kill me!
"Well, there was also a vigilante with knives in her gloves! I took care of her, but none of this would have happened if you hadn't gotten into a fight!
"It was necessary! I intercepted a car with a liaison officer. In two hours, a convoy with fifty tonnes of weapons for Fisk's legions will pass by this checkpoint.
I reached out to Mary, and she quickly jumped back, remembering how her suit reacted to my touch. I needed to find out what had happened to Wendy, and Mary was standing in my way. She's obsessed.
The ghost rose from the sand like some kind of zombie as soon as I approached the parade ground. The zombie tried to grab my leg, and I jumped back in horror, only then realising that Wendy was joking. The internal tension seemed to tear me to pieces, nothing was holding me up anymore, so I just lay down on the concrete and closed my eyes.
Mary took off her suit and started stroking me.
"Don't suck up. Tell me in detail and in order what you did after you left home," I said without opening my eyes.
"I ran to Long Island, crossed under the bridge, and found some people. While I was taking off my suit and looking for clothes, a truck with humanitarian aid arrived. People rushed to grab the bottles of water that the vigilantes were throwing from the truck, and then they started handing out food. The vigilantes were also handing out these.
Mary handed me a piece of paper. I had to open my eyes and look.
On the cover was a picture of a large woman with broad shoulders and hips but a narrow waist. Her breasts were almost as big as her head. She was dressed in a snow-white, austere suit, and her powerful arms held a thin figure in a red and blue leotard by the head and legs. The giantess was breaking the girl in the leotard over her knee. To my surprise, I recognised the girl as Spider-Man, only with small mounds on her chest. The caption under the picture read:
"Superheroes are not needed!"
On the back of the leaflet was a text accusing superheroes of everything that had happened to New York, starting with the 2010 invasion of some "Chitauri" and ending with the Decimation. A team called "The Avengers" failed to protect Earth, and that is why New York has turned into what we see around us.
Propaganda, of course, consists mostly of lies, but I completely agree with the slogan. The idea that one, or ten, or "it doesn't matter how many" people can save the world seems ridiculous and sad to me.
At the end, everyone was invited to sign up as volunteers for some kind of "Third Legion" called upon to "reliably protect the planet from any threats."
"That's a nice way of putting it.
"Exactly. I was very upset because the city will consider Vella Fisk" — that's her in the picture, by the way — "its saviour, and her influence will only grow. I was very angry and attacked a passing car just because I wanted to kick something hard.
"You kicked it?
"Yeah! It even felt better. And then some girl with a gun got out and started shooting! Well, I was in plain clothes, she didn't recognise me... She should have shot herself with her little gun. I introduced her to the poison of my scorpion sting.
"What did you say about the convoy? "Well, that idiot believed that there was an antidote to the poison, and that I would give it to her if she told me a military secret.
"Fifty tons of weapons... Sounds tempting!
I've got a great plan for the robbery in my head.
***
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