Rage has loosened his grip. His gaze is fixed on the vial of Schlesinger-10. It’s such a powerful weapon that even the usually sneering Rage is reduced to a solemn, wide-eyed figure, thinking about all of the people who will die if the vial is uncorked and its toxic fumes released.
Carl is also staring at the vial, awestruck, as is Owl Man. The trio are momentarily frozen.
But I’ve no time for freezing. This is my chance. It hits me in an instant what I must do, how I can turn this to my advantage. But, if I’m to succeed, I can’t hesitate.
I’m still under Owl Man’s spell. I can’t strike him or any of our allies. But Holy Moly, like all of the babies, is able to read my mind. I shoot a plea to it, letting it know that I’m in trouble, asking it to do something to Owl Man that will stop him from exerting his influence over me again.
Holy Moly’s features darken when it sees what Owl Man has done to me. The babies take a very dim view of anyone who messes with their mummy. With a soft snarl, it throws itself at the much taller, pot-bellied figure, propelling itself like a white cannonball that has been shot into the air.
Owl Man tries to duck, but Holy Moly is too fast for him and attaches itself to his face. In a panic, he opens his mouth to roar a command at me, to tell me to call off the killer baby, but that’s what I was banking on, and Holy Moly seizes the moment, doing exactly what I asked.
As Owl Man’s lips part, the baby rams the vial between them, deep into his mouth. The end hits the back of his throat, then Holy Moly withdraws it and jams it in again, over and over, damaging the choking Owl Man’s vocal cords.
As he makes incomprehensible noises and tries to shake the baby loose, Holy Moly pulls out the vial with one hand, then–balancing artfully on Owl Man’s shoulder–sticks the fingers of its other hand into his mutilated mouth and rips its tiny claws around, slicing his tongue to shreds.
Holy Moly hops down with a giggle as Owl Man spits out pieces of blood-red flesh and moans. I’m sure the damage can be repaired, that his tongue and throat can be stitched back together. But it will take time. Right now he can’t utter a single clear word.
Which means he can’t tell me what to do.
Rage has released his grip on me, staring at the disabled Owl Man and considering his response. He doesn’t react when I bend, slip free of his hold and take the vial from a beaming Holy Moly. I stand and turn to face my old burly foe. He’s studying me warily. I know I can’t get the better of Rage in a fight, so I hold the vial out towards him.
“Your choice,” I snarl. “But ask yourself this. Do you really want to be the one who kills off every human on the face of the planet?”
Rage stares at the vial, then glances over his shoulder at Dr. Oystein, who is still grappling with Mr. Dowling.
“Nuh-uh,” I grunt. “You can’t pass the buck. If you take this now and hand it to the doc, you’ll be the one who decides the fate of billions of living, breathing people.”
“And if I don’t take it?” Rage asks.
“Then the responsibility will be mine.”
Rage’s eyes narrow. He thinks it over. Then he smiles. “You know what? I used to think I was the biggest, baddest beast on the block. But you’re more of a brute than I’ll ever be.”
With that barbed compliment, he steps aside and crosses his arms, leaving the running of the show to me.
“One favor before I go,” I tell him.
“Free me up to speak openly and fight.”
He bows like a loyal servant. “I’m not sure if I need to repeat it, but I will, just to be safe. The truth is in the eyes. Now, I’m canceling Owl Man’s orders to say nothing about Dr. Oystein’s deception and not strike any of his troops. You’ve got the all-clear to say what you want and hit whoever you like.”
“Thanks, arsehole,” I grunt, and whack the side of Rage’s head with the palm of my hand.
“Hey!” he yelps.
“Just checking,” I grin, then focus on a startled, bemused Carl Clay. “You’re a smart operator,” I say quickly. “You should be able to recognize the truth. The doc lied to you. He wants to open this vial and kill off the last human survivors.”
“No,” Carl squeaks, shaking his head.
“Rage?” I snap.
“Like she said,” he sniffs.
“But… that doesn’t make sense… he wouldn’t… he loves…”
“He loves peace and quiet,” I growl. “The trouble is humans aren’t peaceful or quiet enough for him. He wants to replace them with the babies. For Dr. Oystein, the war has always been about getting hold of this”–I wave the vial of Schlesinger-10 at Carl–“and unleashing it on the world.”
Carl gulps. “So what’s your plan?” he wheezes. “Make off with it?”
“Nah,” I grin. “I’ve something better than that up my sleeve.”
My ribs are bound up tight. I pull a few of the bandages loose and jam the vial in nice and snugly. Then I slip behind Carl and wrap my arms round him.
“Jump,” I whisper. “Carry me to where Dr. Oystein and Mr. Dowling are fighting. I’ll take things from there.”
Carl looks back at me, then at Rage. Finally he stares at the spluttering Owl Man, who’s reaching hopelessly towards us, trying to pull me back.
Carl makes up his mind and leaps. He uses all of the power in his frog-like legs to thrust us clear across the room, over the heads of the babies, mutants and Angels. We soar like birds above the mayhem. It’s a weirdly calm moment. It reminds me of being in one of the Groove Tubes, the world fading out around me, safe, warm, hovering somewhere between the realms of reality and dreams.
Then we land next to the bloodied, wounded brothers. They’re in bad shape and can barely stand. Their faces are a blood-drenched mess. One of Mr. Dowling’s eyes has popped out of its socket and dangles by its optic fibers on his cheek. A chunk of Dr. Oystein’s skull has been bitten off, exposing his brain. They’re missing fingers. Their torsos have been carved open. But still they fight, ripping viciously at one another, unable to stop.
I thought I’d have to battle the doc, which is why I asked Rage to free me, but he’s so preoccupied that he doesn’t register my presence. In the end I don’t even have to throw a punch, just reach into Dr. Oystein’s pocket, where he stuck the vial of Clements-13 earlier. It was crazy of him to bring it. But these are crazy times. I think the doc lost his mind a bit, being so close to the end. He couldn’t think of anything except killing his brother, locating Holy Moly and securing the sample of Schlesinger-10. He screwed up, and it’s my job to make him pay for his mistake.