Subject Nightingale 1: Birth and Death (19 page)

Chapter 29
Christmas Morning
 

“
Who goes first!?” Whisper asked, the three of them sitting on the mattress with their gifts in the middle.

“
Why don't you go ahead?” Nightingale said. Whisper was so excited, she didn't think she could stand opening her gifts second or third.

And she didn't waste any time. The first one she picked up was from Elise; she tore the paper away to reveal a pair of elastic hair ties, each one capped on either end with two crimson butterflies. She smiled wide and immediately handed them to her sister.

“Thanks, Elise!” she said as she turned her back, and Elise began tying her long hair up with them.

“
I saw how much you liked Nightingale's shirt, so I thought you'd like these,” Elise explained.

“
I do, I love them!” She opened up the gift from Nightingale next: one bottle of purple nail polish, and a bottle of black, which she mistook for hair dye. “This is perfect, I'm almost out of purple dye! Thanks, Nightingale!”

“
Actually, it's nail polish,” Nightingale said, smiling at seeing how pleased Whisper was—even if she didn't know what it was at first.

“
Even better!” Whisper's eyebrows lifted in delight. “I've been so lucky with color coordination lately!” Once her hair was finished, she grabbed what she had gotten for Nightingale and Elise and held them out. “Now open what I got you! But you gotta do it at the same time, okay?”

Nightingale and Elise nodded, and then unwrapped their gifts simultaneously—Whisper had made them rag dolls. They were well put-together, and of surprisingly high quality despite being made from scraps. Nightingale's wore a black frilly Gothic dress, had a head full of red hair, and what appeared to be a small green bird attached to its shoulder; Elise's wore a white sundress, and Whisper retrieved one of her own from beneath the mattress. It was wrapped in a denim jacket, with two long black and purple ponytails.

“We've all got one, see?” she said, beaming with pride.

Nightingale sniffled as a sudden and overwhelming burst of emotion hit her. Touching the doll allowed her to see the painstaking care Whisper put into every single stitch—every little detail—and then suddenly she sensed the extreme nervousness of awaiting a reaction. “Oh, Whisper, I love it!” she said as she threw her arms around her. “It's the best gift I've ever gotten.”

“As far as you know it's the
only
gift you've ever gotten!” Whisper teased.

“
Jeez, no pressure, right?” Elise said with a bit of a grin. “Looks like I'm up against some stiff competition!” She agreed, though; Whisper's gifts knocked hers out of the park.

Nightingale sat back and handed Elise her wrapped gift, and then clutched her doll to her chest.

“Hmm, I wonder what it could be,” Elise joked, lifting the obviously wrapped book up to her ear and shaking it. She unwrapped it and read the title, “
The True History of Bastion, Its Cities, and Its People
, by Jack Stone.” She smiled and looked up. “A history book? Thanks, I love it!”

Nightingale smiled. “The girl at White Rain Books gave me a discount when I told her it was a gift for you.” She picked up what Elise had gotten her, trying to guess what it could be. It was a solid square, but didn't feel like a book... But before she could begin to unwrap it, something tugged at her sixth sense and she gasped.

She was always dedicating a bit of brainpower to keeping an eye on her surroundings, and had come to know the usual people, vehicles, and even thoughts that she would happen to pick up. She was connected to O'Shea Memorial Park and the surrounding block like a spider to its web, but suddenly there was something she didn't recognize barreling over her strands.

“
Go ahead and open it,” Elise said. “I hope you—”

“
Shh,” Nightingale interrupted and shut her eyes. “Go check it out,” she said, and her bird fluttered off her shoulder, exiting their shack through the partially open window.

“
Nightingale, what's going on?” Elise said, her tone suddenly grave.

Nightingale watched through her bird's eyes as it soared down Baker Street. It didn't have to go far, though, before spotting a large black van en route to the park—the bold white letters
E.C.H.O.
printed on its roof.

“
We have to leave,” Nightingale immediately said, opening her eyes wide.

“
What do you mean we have to leave?” Whisper said. “It's Christmas, where are we gonna go?”

“
Listen to her, Whisper,” Elise said, standing and reaching out for her sister's hand.

“
Why, what's going on?” Whisper began looking through the blankets for her jacket.

“
Leave your jacket!” Nightingale yelled. There was no time, they were right outside—she didn't need to look out the window to see them.

A dozen members of Silhouette squad were piling out of that van, geared up and armed to the teeth. It had screeched to a halt right outside O'Shea Memorial Park, just a few yards from where she was—just a few yards from her home, her
sisters'
home—and now they were forming a perimeter. Everyone else who lived in the park was fleeing at the obvious signs of trouble, but the girls were trapped.

“
They have orders to take me alive,” Nightingale said, “but—”

“
Take you alive!?” Elise shouted. “What are you talking about, Nightingale, who's here, who is that!?” She had heard the van and then all the footsteps, and approached the window to look outside.

“
Get away from the window!” Nightingale grabbed Elise's arm. “Listen to me!” She was frightening Whisper and Elise, but she needed them to just listen. “They want
me
, so just stay put. Stay
here
,
do not
leave, no matter what.” Worry was plain on both their faces, and Whisper had taken to hiding behind Elise. “Do you understand?”

Elise nodded slowly. “Yeah... We get it, Nightingale...”

“Lock this behind me,” Nightingale said as she slipped out.

Elise jammed the block into the latch and then knelt in front of Whisper. “Everything's gonna be fine, okay? Nightingale's gonna tell whoever's out there to go away, just like before.”

“But who is it?” Whisper asked.

“
Drop any weapons you're carrying,” one of the members of Silhouette squad demanded, his automatic rifle trained on Nightingale.

She reached into her pocket for her knife, and tossed it to the ground. She sensed twelve men; two snipers on adjacent roofs, the rest taking cover near the shacks that filled the park. One of the men in the park stood out, though... He felt familiar...

“She can't drop her most dangerous weapon,” he said, walking out from behind his cover to stand front and center.

“
Tommy...” Nightingale muttered.

His black tactical vest and short-sleeved shirt left his arms exposed, revealing that his left arm was entirely prosthetic. It looked to be made of the same white metal that the whole of Bastion was crafted from; the joints were seamless, the entire arm moving identically to a natural arm as he took a slow drag from a cigarette. “We very well can't
disarm
your brain, Subject Nightingale, so we won't hesitate to shoot. As long as your pretty little brain is nice and safe, then it's a payday for the ol' Silhouettes.” His rifle hung from a strap against his torso.

“
I thought—” she began, but Tommy interrupted.

“
Thought I was dead, yeah, I know. Hey, listen, let's not fall into any cheesy soap opera plot lines, alright?” He took another drag from his cigarette. “Let's cut to the big reveal: that % $#@! ^& glitch Jonny blew me up pretty good, but I guess I just wanted my revenge in the worst way. I clung to life long enough to be scooped up by the cleanup crew, then the Council hooked me up with some of those fancy nanobots.

“
Gave me this pretty sweet robot arm, too,” he said as he extended his left arm, rolling his wrist and wiggling his fingers to show it off. The artificial muscle beneath the surprisingly supple metal surface flexed just like a real muscle. “It's kinda plain looking, but what are you gonna do, ya know?” He put his cigarette out on his forearm then flicked the butt away.

“
You've got nanobots, too?” Nightingale asked. She didn't know what to do... Should she try to buy time? Take the fight somewhere else? At the very least, she knew she needed to keep Whisper and Elise safe at all costs...

“
Well, not like you, the Lab's little miracle child,” Tommy answered. “Any sort of long-term exposure has resulted in... Well, you know... But that's where I come in.”

“
You wanna take me back,” Nightingale said. “The Council wants to know why I'm special.”

“
That's a bingo!” He touched the black band around his throat. “Come and get her.”

“
No!” Nightingale said, taking a step back toward the door. “Don't come any closer.” She concentrated as hard as she could to implant the will to just leave in Tommy's mind.

Tommy responded by clenching his teeth and rubbing his forehead, a mildly pained expression sweeping across his face. “I appreciate the minor headache, but that's not gonna work. I've spent the last month getting injected with all sorts of $#!% to keep you from tinkering around up there.” He touched the band around his throat again, and said, “Take her down.”

One of the snipers on the other side of Baker Street loosed a bullet without so much as a muffled
thwip!
Nightingale saw the bullet hurtling toward her throat, though, and caught it with inches to spare. She flung it back with just a minor course correction, and it imbedded itself in the sniper's skull.

“
Man down,” the second sniper said, and then fired off a shot of his own.

The second bullet was caught just as effortlessly, but instead of hurling it back at the sniper, she flung it at Tommy. It hit him square in the chest with as much force as the rifle, and took him off his feet; he flew a few yards through the air, but was mostly unharmed thanks to his vest.

“Open fire!” he barked just as he landed.

The air was alive with the sound of gunfire, and Nightingale was right back in the Lab. There were countless bullets headed her way, and she began sending them away as best she could; it required so much attention, though, each bullet required an individual thought, and it was becoming very taxing.

She was beginning to panic, her thoughts suddenly on Whisper and Elise, and how to keep them safe. She couldn't risk even a single bullet getting past her.

She began catching rather than deflecting; it required less concentration to just freeze them in a radius around herself, and soon, she was holding eleven clips' worth of bullets in midair.

“Reloading!” one of the squad members said, and Nightingale's ears perked.

She looked up and saw a majority of the men popping fresh magazines into their rifles. She clenched her fists and hurled the bullets back, at this point unable to do much more than unleash a virtual wall of brass that only a few soldiers managed to avoid. Many of them caught bullets in their heads; a few managed to duck behind their cover just in time, and some were knocked unconscious when so many bullets struck their vests at once. Nightingale knew that their ribs had been cracked by the force, and that their ribs punctured their lungs.

“Fire in the hole,” Tommy said, exceptionally calm, as he lobbed a grenade toward Nightingale.

He had been cooking it as his men dropped like flies around him, so it detonated almost the instant it entered her airspace. She caught the blast before it grew too large; a smoldering explosion of fire and shrapnel swirled violently in an invisible bubble, and then she hurled it right back at Tommy.

“Not again,” was all he could say before the blast expanded and consumed him.

It took out a number of shacks along with it and reached back for Nightingale, but she cut it in two, deflecting it away from herself and her home and then sending it into the sky. Once it died down she let out a breath and dropped to one knee, and held her head in her hand. She touched the ground for balance, and tried to regain her senses.

The last member of Silhouette, badly wounded from the explosion, could barely see through the blood in his eyes. He didn't have the strength to pick himself up off the ground, he could barely even raise his rifle high enough to fire. He managed to point it toward Nightingale and squeeze the trigger, clenching his teeth as he unleashed what was left in his magazine.

A horizontal spray of bullets tore through her throat, and she collapsed against the door to her shack. She sputtered up blood and tried to sense for the last squad member, but she couldn't find him. She couldn't sense anyone; nobody from ECHO, none of the residents of O'Shea Memorial Park, not Whisper or Elise. She was physically and mentally exhausted, so all she could do was bleed and wait to heal.

She could feel a bullet stuck in her throat being pushed out by the nanobots. It crept through her ripped flesh, and as her exhaustion was gradually alleviated by the technology inside her, she couldn't keep herself from watching the bullet's past.