Chapter 22 Jig’s Up, Mofos #2
“Of course you do. He wants a new generation of pets that’s easier to control than we are. He wants his genes in the mix, so he can get one step closer to becoming the archvillain of all time with a full array of fucking superpowers.”
Celia’s brow furrowed. “Archvillain? Superpowers?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know we’re not actually living in a comic book, but that’s how it feels to us. Magnum’s the villain, okay? And tonight he tried to get my girl pregnant so he could make it easier to combine his powers with hers.”
“Powers?” Celia uttered with another scrunch of her forehead.
“Oh, knock it off already, Mom. Or, not-my-mom.”
Celia’s breath hitched, as if that were the worst of the things Layla had said.
“We know Magnum’s not really human. We know this isn’t even the only one of him walking around Ridgemore. Much to our disappointment …”
The ’rents shared yet another look among themselves. Did they not get how incredibly over their stupid, secret looks we were?
Layla had the situation plenty handled, but I found myself speaking anyway. “A lot of damage has been done. More than we can probably ever fully recover from.”
“No kidding,” Hunt murmured.
“But all that, everything that’s happened to us, it all boils down to one question right now: Are you gonna keep lying to us and hurting us, or are you interested in finally doing the right thing?”
Again, the ’rents just looked at one another.
I sighed out my disappointment, though why I’d still hold hope they’d do right by us was beyond me.
“Look,” I said, “in those notes you snuck to us, you said you wanted to help us. Was that all just another part of the story? Or do you really want to give us a hand? Be on our side? ’Cause if you do, we could really use some help right now.”
Eyes wide, Celia glanced at Porter, asking him under her breath, “How do they remember the notes?”
Although the question was directed solely at him, Layla answered, “I told you. We know everything.”
That’s right, my bestie bluffed like a fucking boss.
“Well?” Griffin snapped. “Are you in or are you out? ’Cause you’re probably not the only ones listening in on our so-called private conversations. Who else is lined up to listen to this chat?”
“Oh shit,” Orson breathed.
“Yeah,” Griffin said flatly. “Oh shit.”
“Come on, guys,” Hunt grumbled. “How can it be this hard to decide if you want to help your supposed kids not get raped and murdered? Are you really all just pieces of absolute shit?” His voice pitched high at the end, so unlike Hunt. I suspected it was the sound of his heart cracking.
Brady commented into our telepathic link.
Hunt said, his words, just for us, soft and crushed.
The five of us looked back at the six of them. Even Layla’s previous blustery rage seemed to be deflating.
“Oh my God,” Celia said. “Look at them. They’re …”
Heartbroken. Devastated. Betrayed. Probably a little bit scared shitless, though I wouldn’t admit to it.
But what our ’rents didn’t also see was that we wouldn’t remain this way for long.
Whatever awaited us, we’d face it head-on.
We’d fight and we’d fight and we’d fucking fight—until there was no one left to stand against us.
Our ’rents had cut us deeply, there was no denying it. Regardless of their shit motivations, they’d still raised us since we were young children. It ached when those relationships crumbled. But those weren’t the bonds that made my crew strong.
The lie-rents weren’t our real family.
Griffin, Layla, Hunt, and Brady—they were my family. Bobo too. For them I’d fight to the death—and beyond. For them I’d resurrect and punish whoever was foolish enough to cause them harm.
“Be honest with us for once in your fucking lives,” Brady said with a growl, but it felt forced, as if he didn’t want them to see how difficult this was for us.
“When you look at us, do you see your Nobel-Prize-winning research? Or do you see people you care about? That’s really the question, and it’s simple. If we’re just research to you—”
“Or even if the research part is the most important,” Hunt interjected.
Brady nodded. “Then do us a solid and actually admit it to us right here, right now. Be up-front with us. At the very least, the bare minimum, we deserve that.”
Griffin added, “You owe us that. You owe us.”
The ’rents didn’t answer right away, consulting with each other with openly questioning looks.
Layla said only to our crew.
Only, of course we did. They were supposed to be our parents, for fuck’s sake. How were we supposed to know we were dealing with a gang of mad scientists out to leave their mark on their world, whatever the damn cost?
Brady added,
Layla asked, sounding not entirely opposed to the idea.
Hunt said.
Brady said.
I said.
Griffin said.
Layla said.
Hunt said on a sigh that was loud enough to possibly draw our parents’ attention.
I spoke aloud. “Wow, okay. So I guess we’ve got our answer. If it takes you this long just to decide whether to do the right thing and actually help your supposed children, well then, we see you.”
“Oh, we see you, all right,” said Layla, violence riding her words.
Alexis uncrossed her arms and tutted. “Enough with the theatrics.”
I sucked in a gasp so loud I choked, while my friends universally went rigid around me. “The theatrics?” I asked. “Are you fucking kidding us right now, Alexis? Or wait, Marisa?”
Her shoulders jerked at hearing her true name and evidence that we did indeed know some things, if not the everything Layla kept claiming.
“I woke up in the middle of the night to that man”—I pointed at the cadaver—“trying to shove his dick inside me. How about we break into your supposedly safe bedroom while you’re sleeping and shove a rod up your ass, see how you like it?”
I discovered myself standing beside the bed, fists balled at my sides. “You just don’t get it, do you?” I looked from Alexis to the rest of them. “You don’t know what it feels like to watch the people you love most in the world die.”
“Of course we do,” my mom snapped. “You can’t actually believe we don’t love you. We—”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what we think,” I jumped in.
“You don’t love us. How could you? How could it be such a difficult decision to help us not get killed?
Not be trapped in this town without escape where every single fucking person’s in on the plan?
Everyone is trying to kill us. Or to hurt us. Or to … whatever.”
I found Griffin and Layla on their feet beside me. I hadn’t even realized they’d stood. Brady and Hunt shored up next to them, and Bobo, bless my pup, was circling us to stand protectively in front of me.
Griffin’s hand wrapped around my fist until I relaxed it, then he wove his fingers through mine.
“You know what, forget it,” I said. “Just forget it. We’ll deal with it all on our own. Just stay out of our way.”
“Yeah,” Layla said, puffing out her chest, making her smaller frame appear larger. “Fuck y’all.”
Brady added, “And don’t mind the barbecue we’re gonna be doing out back. You can explain that prick’s bones away, assuming you even have to since the cops are bought and paid for.”
“Especially since Monica’s banging the sheriff,” Layla said.
“Enough,” Alexis barked with a slicing jerk of her hands.
My mouth dropped open to speak my mind while Layla’s head was already wagging with mega ’tude beside me.
“We’re going to help you,” Alexis said.
“I can’t believe—” Layla was already saying. “Wait, what?”
Alexis frowned at us for a long beat before turning to face her friends—or maybe they were just colleagues, dastardly scientists together at arms.
She looked at Orson. “Intercept the recordings before Tracy gets her hands on them.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve got minutes, Tobias, mere minutes before she strolls into the lab to get an early jump on things.”
Orson didn’t answer. He yanked out his phone, lowered his head over it, and got frantically to doing.
Next, she looked at my dad. “Coordinate the disposal team. Make sure they don’t talk.”
My dad frowned. “They all talk. Magnum will know.”
“Magnum will already know. This one didn’t come here all on his own. Silence the team after, however you need to. Even if it just seeds a little confusion, it’ll buy us time.”
“Right,” my dad said, also drawing out his phone and getting to following orders.
Griffin asked just our crew.
Brady said.
Layla asked, presumably a rhetorical question.
They are fucktards, that is what they are. At least we know it now.
“It’s time to take them to the institute,” Alexis told the scientists before glancing at us. “I take it you know exactly what I’m talking about?”
“Sure do,” Layla answered.
“How ’bout you disable our tracking chips before we go?” Hunt said. “Or are they kill switches?”
When Alexis tried to look away, he took a step closer so she couldn’t easily avoid his stare.
“Mom,” he said. “Are they kill switches?”
The woman who was ever so cool under pressure visibly swallowed. “Celia will disable them.”
Brady whistled in disbelief. “Yo, you guys are some ice-cold fuckers. You put kill-switch chips inside your kids? I hope those Nobels are worth it to you, ’cause once we get through this, you’ll never see us again.”
“Truth,” Layla said.
Celia had been looking at her phone, presumably to disable our kill switches—yay. Now she took a step away from Porter and toward us.
“You don’t understand. It’s not like all that.”
“Well, Mom,” Brady said. “I don’t believe you, ’cause here I am wondering how I’ll even trust you to actually disable the kill switches instead of lying to us about doing that too.
It’s pretty handy to be able to kill us at the touch of a fucking button, huh?
What kind of psycho science mom would wanna give that up? ”
I didn’t have to look to sense the savagery peeking out from Brady’s eyes; it vibrated in his voice.
Celia extended her hand toward him; the other gripped her phone. “Brade, honey, I would never—”
Brady crossed his arms defensively, as if that would do a thing to prevent the damage they’d so easily caused us. “Save it. I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Neither do I,” Layla said curtly. “I think we’re done here for now. Am I right, guys?”
“Definitely,” Griffin said.
“We’ve had a long fucking night, actually helping the people we love.” Layla’s eyes grazed the side of my face. “We’ll meet you at the gate to the institute in two hours sharp. Be there”—she shrugged—“or don’t. Either way, we’ll know what to do from there.”
When Layla cut a swath around the dead body and through the stunned lie-rents, I scrambled to grab my nearest shoes—a pair of well-worn high-top Chucks—and jogged after her. Our guys and Bobo were on our heels.
Brady slammed the door shut behind us hard enough to rattle the hinges.
Whatever was coming next, things would never be the same again. That much was certain.
As far as I could tell, it was the only thing that was certain at this point.
Our fates surely weren’t.