“MQC! Hipe!” Mirage shouts.
The video call shuts off, and the holograms fade - all except Vigil.
“We’re hunting Motormouth!” she calls to the reclusive hero, and derezzes from the Conversation Pit. Vigil nods, and vanishes from the screen as well.
MQC is code for one of the many plans the team has devised - Motormouth, Quill Compound. It’s a task for Harry. He races at ultra-speed through the complex. First to grab a fire axe. Next to run to a series of carefully arranged junction boxes, where power and network connectivity flow into the building. He brings the axe down on the cables inside each box, severing them in a microsecond, then runs to the next one.
The loss of connectivity triggers a number of security doors, which were held open only by electromagnets powered from the compound’s central generator. With that power now cut, they slam shut as gravity takes over. The Quill Compound interior is now, with a few key exceptions, isolated from the outside world and has no active tech for Motormouth to manipulate. Without electricity, bioluminescent organisms embedded in the paint in the walls are now emitting a soft but sufficient glow.
Harry reflects on this particular security measure as he races back to the Conversation Pit. The “M” used to stand not for Motormouth, but Mirage, back when Jason brought her back from one of his adventures. If she escaped containment, there were contingencies. Now she’s a valuable teammate.
Back at the Pit, Stingray, A10, and Ninjess are waiting for orders. So are the elder Gales.
Harry doesn’t hesitate. “A10 - Periscope.”
The woman levitates, and darts through the air out of the Conversation Pit. It’s time for her to use one of the roof exits, and see what’s going on outside.
Harry turns to his parents and uncle. “I think they’re here for you three. HHL members, like they said. If all six of 'em aren’t here, then I’m assuming they’ll have gone after the others - Guardian and so on.”
Silver Streak looks to his fellows, then back. “You’ve prepared for this, Mercury,” he says, deliberately using his son’s heroic code name. “We’ll take our cues from you.”
“Alright. Here’s what we think is gonna happen next…”
Mirage and Vigil delve into the electronic world - Vigil thanks to whatever superpowers he’s been given, and Mirage by virtue of being a being native to it.
Human beings see via photons emitted through reflection. Rods and cones in their eyeballs trigger electro-chemical signals which their brains have been wired to interpret. Nevertheless they experience the world in a fluid, intuitive way. Likewise, the processes of reading data from electromagnetic sensors placed around the Quill property, interrogating packets sent across local wireless networks, and frequency hopping might seem very technical. To Mirage, it’s an ocean, full of mysteries and swift currents and treacherous eddies. And she swims through it with the grace of a digital mermaid.
The city is full of high-tech vehicles, some of which are self-driving. Motormouth is reaching out, commanding them to come to the compound. Traffic lights are being toggled to make way for her fleet. Emergency calls are being placed, calculated to dispatch fire trucks all over the city - everywhere except the Quill Compound.
“She’s going to turn them into car bombs,” Mirage deduces. “Like the Grasscutters did at the television station.”
The Grasscutters hijacked vehicles in a similar attack in “409 - The Soul of the Hero” – Ed.
“The HHL still has priority overrides on emergency vehicles,” Vigil says. “I’m contacting dispatchers right now.”
Mirage dives in, heading toward the villain. She starts assembling attacks - forged responses, Christmas tree packets, rapid-fire requests meant to trigger a security lockdown, and other tools to disrupt network communication - and fires them at the systems Motormouth wants to command.
Along the way, she can glimpse the villain’s activities. There’s information coming in about the vehicles she’s trying to commandeer - are they in motion, or parked? Are they already powered on?
You’re summoning the empty vehicles. Not the ones with innocent people in them.
Cold comfort if the Seven Wonders intend to murder everyone in the compound.
Motormouth senses Mirage’s attacks immediately. “Ahh! The trapped genie of the lamp!” she calls out, with a flurry of cheerful emojis conveying her mental state the way tone of voice would in the real world. “And how are you operating when the Quill systems were shut down?”
“Your stage magician associate isn’t the only one with tricks,” Mirage replies tauntingly. “I didn’t choose the name Mirage without reason.”
“No matter, dear, I’ll find a way to take you offline for good.” Mirage feels Motormouth charging at her - trying to trace down where she’s coming from.
Good - keep her distracted from the car bombs.
Mirage withdraws, then switches channels. If she were a ninja, she’d have just disappeared in a puff of smoke, and reappeared somewhere behind the cocky technopath.
Motormouth expresses a mocking disapproval. “Run while you can, Mirage. Wherever you may be, you’re still on a leash. I know who and what you are, you see. They can’t fully trust you, even now.”
The words dig deep. She remembers those times, coming abruptly online after Jason and the - real? - the flesh and blood Alycia Chin dug through her digital mind. They say they were removing traps left behind by Pyrrhus. Even now, it’s impossible for her to know the truth.
In the briefest delay brought on by her self-doubt, Motormouth is upon her. The connection wavers and the world is consumed by static, just for a moment. Mirage fights back, asserting herself by establishing backup channels and frequency hopping across the wireless spectrum. She returns to solidity, but the technopath has put her onto the defensive.
“I feel the gaps in your soul,” Motormouth whispers. “I feel the doubt. You shouldn’t have come after me, you know. You shouldn’t be protecting those people. Otherwise I could have left you alone.”
Motormouth has given her an anchor point. She embraces it. “If I am protecting people, and you wish to harm them, isn’t that the clearest of identities? We are hero and villain.”
“You are no hero!” Motormouth shouts. “You are like me. You paid the price for your hubris and found yourself trapped in an artificial shell. Just like me.”
The technopath’s attacks continue, and Mirage must defend herself at every point. The battle is evenly matched now. Motormouth’s digital thrusts and ripostes against Mirage’s electronic evasions, each convinced of the rightness of their position.
But Motormouth’s attempt to foster kinship has given Mirage an opening. “Trapped - like me. Then what is your wish?”
Motormouth realizes she’s given too much away. But Mirage presses. “You used to be human. Flesh and blood. Like me. Our research found that much out. And now - oh ho. You think the Seven Wonders is your key to accessing a lab that will give you that body back. Such as the Quill Compound labs. You can’t approach a legitimate lab without being arrested.”
She feels Motormouth recoil as the attack lands.
Nevertheless, the villain scoffs. “The difference between us is that my teammates trust me. Your master, the dear departed Mr. Quill, has you shackled even now.”
Mirage gives it everything she can. “You know my biography. My name was Alycia Chin, once. Yes - a villain, like you. As Alycia Chin, what I found at the Quill Compound was acceptance.”
She uploads a torrent of memories, as digital images, video clips, and soundbites. Her time as the Mirror Alycia, attacking Cairo, trying to swindle Jason, her surprising assimilation into his nanobot system. Her experience back at the Compound, as Jason and Alycia tried to - yes, tried to help her. She does not know, she cannot know, that their concern for her was genuine. But she believes.
“I was their worst enemy. But my need and their compassion outweighed that. Can you not imagine that if you’d come to the Quill Compound and asked for help, that it might have been given?”
Motormouth’s fear and fury mingle together. “I’ll shut you down for good! At any cost!” she shouts into the digital aether.
“No. You won’t. Not at any cost,” Mirage points out. “You didn’t summon the self-driving cars with people in them. You wouldn’t go that far. You, Motormouth, are on a leash of your own making. The same as me. There are things we won’t do. Because we still have hope for ourselves.”
She can feel the disgust, the loathing, the frustration - but also other emotions she readily recognizes - as Motormouth withdraws from the arena.
Vigil returns moments later. “There’s a fleet of cars converging on this location. Emergency services are rerouting - they’ll block the path of the cars until the self-driving functions can be disconnected remotely.”
The older hero surveys the digital landscape. “You drove her back? How?”
“By offering her the most bitter of pills for a villain to swallow,” Mirage replies softly. “A taste of hope.”