Chapter 76: Cry for the Moon – Part 2

"Hey, Peter… do you know where Michelle is?"

Hearing that absentminded voice, I turned around.

It was Ned.

"…She hasn’t been here all day."

"No idea… We’re not even in the same class."

"Ah, yeah… true."

I put my textbooks back in my locker and got ready for the next class.

"She out sick?"

"No, she said she had family stuff… See?"

I showed him the short message on my phone.

"I’ll be going back to my parents’ place for about three days starting Monday."

As always, a stiff and formal text.

I thought maybe we’d gotten a little closer after our date last Saturday… but it doesn’t seem like anything’s changed.

…Then again, I can’t really picture Michelle using heart emojis or cute faces in her messages anyway.

"Ah, I see."

"Huh? What’s up, Ned? Did you need her for something?"

"Nah? The Death Star arrived, so I figured we could build it together."

The Death Star… Oh, the LEGO set.

"But I thought it wasn’t out yet?"

"I’m a member, so I got it early. Pretty lucky… Here, look."

Ned pulled a minifigure out of his bag—a tiny LEGO Darth Vader.

…Why did he even bring that to school?

"The main set’s huge, and there are a ton of pieces… so I thought I’d invite you and Michelle too."

"Alright… Let’s invite her when she gets back."

"Of course."

I gave a wry smile at his response. Even though it came early, he clearly had no intention of building it until Michelle returned.

Well, that’s just the kind of good guy Ned is.

"But… Michelle’s family home, huh."

"Hm? What’s on your mind, Ned?"

Ned folded his arms, looking troubled.

"Doesn’t it bother you, Peter?"

"Ah—well? I mean, yeah, I’m curious, but—"

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.

The truth is, Michelle has never been willing to talk about her home, her family, or the high school she went to before.

Of course I’m curious.

But—

"She’s trying to keep it to herself. Forcing it out of her wouldn’t be right."

"…Hmm."

"Seems like it’s something she doesn’t want people touching on."

Ned kept his arms folded.

The fact that a seventeen-year-old girl is living alone away from her parents… Yeah, there’s reason to wonder.

Don’t her family worry about her?

…And her low self-esteem… those tears from that time—

It’s probably connected to something she doesn’t want to talk about.

Maybe she’s got some trouble with her family.

That’s why I can’t push her on it.

Ned seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he stayed quiet.

"The best we can do is make sure she has somewhere comfortable to be. Private stuff… we won’t know unless she tells us herself."

"…Even if you’re a hero?"

His words made my heart jolt.

There were people around, but no one seemed to be paying attention.

I steadied myself before answering.

"Trying to dig up someone’s secrets in secret… that’s not a hero. That’s a stalker."

"Ah—yeah, fair enough."

Ned nodded, but with an unconvinced look.

"So what if she asked for ‘help’?"

"…Then I’d help her. No matter what."

At that, Ned gave a little whistle… or at least the gesture of one. No sound actually came out.

"Ah—well, not that I’d know. I’m no hero or anything."

I hurried to smooth over my words. You never know who might be listening…

"Hmm, guess that’s how it is then."

"That’s how it is. You shouldn’t just barge into someone’s personal business if they don’t want you there."

Ned gave me a wry smile.

"…Same here, but maybe it’s also just that we don’t have the guts to step in."

"Well, yeah, but…"

I scratched my cheek awkwardly.

…In the end, maybe it’s selfish of me to want Michelle to be the one to tell me what’s bothering her.

Maybe I don’t want to go chasing after her secrets because… I’m afraid she’d end up hating me.

"Ah, no, sorry, Peter. I’m not trying to blame you or anything."

"It’s fine. It’s the truth."

I tucked my textbook under my arm for the next class.

Outside the window, the blue sky was already being swallowed by gray clouds.

Somewhere out there, under that sky… I wonder if Michelle’s doing alright.

…It might rain later today, I thought.

---

The claws were right in front of me.

Adamantium claws… there was no time to guard with my arms.

I kicked off the ground in a reflexive backward fall… but I couldn’t completely evade.

The claws pierced into my mask.

“—!”

I twisted my head at the last instant, diverting the strike away from my throat.

The claws gouged into the mask, tearing away the flesh from my jaw downward.

…If I hadn’t shifted, I would have been dead for sure.

It was an attack steeped in killing intent.

The mechanical components of the mask were damaged, ceasing to function.
I could still barely see, but… just as Tinkerer had feared, it had come to this.

The muscles connecting my lower jaw were gone, leaving it hanging slack.
Blood poured freely.
I had to stop the bleeding—fast.

Even as I fell, I slapped the ground with my hand, kicking upward like a handstand into X-23’s face.

“Urgh!”

The kick came from a metal-plated foot.
It broke her nose, caved in bone, and blinded her.

…Not that it would last long. With her healing factor, it was only a stalling tactic.

I rolled with the recoil, creating distance, and landed beside Taskmaster.

“…You get hit with some kind of mind attack?”

Taskmaster addressed me.

…I couldn’t exactly admit that my head had been muddled by guilt, so the assumption was convenient.
I decided to go along with it.

Khh—

No voice came out.
Only the rasp of air escaped.

…Of course. My lower jaw was gone.
No tongue, no voice.

Taskmaster glanced away from me, apparently understanding that I couldn’t speak.

“…Stay back. I’ll handle this.”

Saying that, Taskmaster looked toward X-23.
Her face was smeared with blood, but the wounds were already gone.
Her healing factor outpaced mine by far.

She pinched her nose and spat blood from her mouth.
…Broken teeth clattered onto the ground.

Blood-stained, X-23 glared at Taskmaster.

“I’ve got no business with you.”

“Even if you don’t with me… I have business with you.”

From the hilt Taskmaster held—one with no blade—an orange light extended outward.
It solidified into the shape of a short sword.
From the center of a small shield, the same light spread, expanding until it was the size of Captain America’s shield.

Quite the high-tech weapon.

I took several steps back.
At my current state, I’d only be a burden… and besides, I needed to focus on healing.
If I kept bleeding like this, I’d black out from blood loss.

The scrape of my foot against the ground drew X-23’s attention, and she lunged at Taskmaster.

Her sharp claws swept forward—only to be stopped by a wall of light generated from the shield.

“What the—”

X-23 looked surprised, and so was I.
To block adamantium claws… no, that wasn’t it. The claws hadn’t actually touched the shield.

Some kind of powerful repulsive force radiated from the light, preventing contact altogether.

“Class is in session. Watch closely—this is my technology.”

That was aimed at me, no doubt.

Taskmaster lifted the shield, catching X-23’s arm and forcing it upward.
Then, in the opening to her torso, he drove in his elbow.

“Ghh—!?”

A strike to the solar plexus… most likely dealing massive internal damage.

“Lesson one: how to fight someone with a healing factor. Even if their wounds heal… they can’t block out the pain.”

He was right.
I wasn’t exempt either.

If a vital spot was hit, I’d flinch too.
Taskmaster was targeting the precise points where the brain wouldn’t block the pain.

He raised his sword—

"This…!"

Claws and sword crossed.

The claws of X-23 bit into the blade of the sword made of light.

At this rate, the claws would slip past the sword and land a hit.

I thought so… and likely, X-23 thought the same.

In that instant, I saw black metal under the shield.

A dry gunshot rang out.

"Ugh…!"

"Lesson two — information is an advantage. Use hidden weapons at the most effective moment."

The thing hidden under the shield was a handgun.

A standard, commercially sold pistol… nothing custom-made, just an ordinary weapon.

Of course, it couldn’t deal a fatal blow to X-23.

It hit her in the abdomen, drawing blood… but she’d probably regenerate in under a minute.

Still, it made her falter.

With a sliding motion, the claws were knocked aside… followed by a display of swordsmanship so refined, it was like watching a work of art.

…It’s not something I could imitate.

It was the sword of someone who lived for the way of the blade — and someone with utterly extraordinary talent.

Keeping that momentum, the sword came down in a diagonal slash from her left shoulder.

"Lesson three — when you find an opening, deliver your most powerful strike."

"…!"

She couldn’t even make a sound.

The sword had carved down from the gap between neck and shoulder to the top of her chest.

It had to have dealt fatal damage to her internal organs.

For a normal human, it would be a lethal injury on the spot.

Bone and nerves severed, her left arm went limp and powerless.

But she was a mutant with a healing factor.

No matter how grievous the damage, if she had time, she could regenerate.

X-23 swung up her leg, aiming to stab with the bony claw protruding from her toes.

Taskmaster bent his upper body backward to evade, but in that moment, X-23 also leapt back.

Distance opened between them.

X-23 remained on guard, trying to regenerate her wounds.

If time passed, it would turn to her advantage… and just as I thought that, a sound reached my ears.

"And lesson four—"

The sound of metal striking concrete… a handgun rolling across the ground.

…Why discard a weapon capable of ranged attacks at this moment?

That question was answered the moment I saw Taskmaster holding his shield, winding up for a throw.

That was… a copy mimicking Captain America.

"Use everything you can."

Twisting his body, Taskmaster hurled the shield.

Once it left his hand, the shield became a massive disc-like projectile, hurtling toward X-23.

With one arm disabled… and her body balance ruined, there was only one way to block it.

She raised the ridge of the claws on her good right arm to intercept.

But the mass was too much to stop with one arm alone, the impact straining her muscles.

Her blocking arm was knocked aside, throwing her posture off.

Even so, it seemed she had managed to block the attack.

But that appeared to be exactly what Taskmaster had anticipated — he showed no sign of surprise, instead pulling something from his back.

"Lesson five — give your opponent no time to recover—"

A folding compound bow.

With a kashari click, it unfolded.

He nocked an arrow and drew it back.

The cams rotated, reshaping the bow.

Taskmaster had no superpowers.

Physically, he was no different from an ordinary human.

That was precisely why he modernized his armaments to compensate.

The bowstring creaked under the draw…

"Attack relentlessly, without pause."

The arrow flew.

Precise… and swift.

Just like Hawkeye.

And with her shield knocked aside and posture broken, X-23 had no means to evade.

The arrow went—

"Ghhk—!"

—straight into X-23’s neck.

Dead—

"…No, not yet."

…Not dead, huh.

Then again, she survived even after taking a bullet to the forehead.

Something like this wouldn’t kill her—

No, wait… why was I relieved she wasn’t dead? She’s the enemy, isn’t she?

Ignoring my thoughts, Taskmaster leapt at X-23.

"This concludes the lecture."

And he drove the sword straight into the center of her chest.

Pressing down with both hands, he wrenched the wound wider.

"Ahh—!"

X-23 writhed, coughing blood.

He drove the blade down into the ground, pinning her there.

No matter how much faster her regeneration was compared to mine, with the blade still lodged in her, her healing speed would have to slow.

Taskmaster straddled X-23 and drew a large knife from his belt.

Without hesitation, he brought the blade to her neck—

“Wa… it…”

I hastily called out to stop him.

…My lower jaw was shattered and still regenerating.

Forcing my voice out anyway made it rasp like that of an old man.

And the blood seeping into the wound stung.

The searing pain from the shredded jaw muscles burned through my brain.

It wasn’t a loud voice, but fortunately, Taskmaster seemed to hear it—he stopped his hand and looked at me.

“What is it?”

My mind spun.

Why did I stop him…? I was already regretting it.

If I’d just kept my mouth shut and let him kill her, I wouldn’t be taking on all this trouble.

But—

“……”

X-23 wore a puzzled expression.

She’d lost a lot of blood, and with an arrow still lodged in her throat, her consciousness seemed hazy.

Even so, she seemed curious… wondering why I’d stepped in to protect her.

…She’s like me.

Like me, she’s killed people—countless people.

But unlike me… she had someone who loved her.

And I took that away.

Of course she’d hate me.

Of course she’d want to kill me.

If I were in her position… say, if a dear friend of mine had been killed for someone’s selfish reasons… I wouldn’t forgive it.

I can’t truly understand that pain.

I’ve never had someone precious to me… and so I’ve never lost anyone.

But still… I can understand that burning, searing rage.

And what I’m feeling right now… is guilt.

“…There… might be… others infiltrating besides… her… We… should interrogate her.”

I rasped out the words, and Taskmaster stroked his chin with the hand not holding the knife.

“You’ve at least got the wit to hide personal feelings behind a pretext, huh…”

Bull’s-eye.

I froze.

…If he decided I was no longer worth keeping around… if word of this got back to the organization… who knew what would happen?

An agent who can’t kill a target is nothing but a defective product.

…They might dispose of me.

I stayed silent, watching him—until I heard him sigh.

“…Fine. Needless killing that earns no money should be avoided. We’ll restrain her and take her back.”

He returned the knife to his belt, then bound X-23’s arms and legs with wire.

Next, he yanked the arrow from her throat in one swift motion.

Blood spurted out.

“Ugh— where the hell do you think you’re touching, you pervert?!”

…She’s surprisingly energetic.

She glared at Taskmaster with sharp, almost feral eyes.

But he ignored her and continued his work, fastening a large metal staple—like something from an industrial stapler—over the wire around her arm.

“Ow— dammit, that hurts!?”

Yeah, that would hurt.

Normally, those things are used to secure carpets to the floor.

Driving one directly into someone’s arm… yeah, that’s gonna hurt like hell.

“…She’s restrained. But you’re carrying her.”

“Got it.”

My jaw’s regeneration had advanced enough that my voice was finally returning to normal.

But with the voice modulator in my mask broken, it was my real female voice.

“…A woman…? A kid?”

X-23 muttered something under her breath.

…Tch, I need to swap to a spare mask soon. Any information that could link me to “Michelle Jane” has to be eliminated.

I spat the blood pooling in my mouth onto the ground and hoisted X-23 onto my shoulder.

…Maybe because I’m smaller than her, it felt awkward and unbalanced.

“If you resist, I’ll kill you instantly. Stay still.”

“……”

No response to my threat.

…Damn it, I can’t see her face, so I have no idea what she’s thinking.

I turned my gaze back to Taskmaster—he was retrieving the shield he’d thrown earlier and sliding the bow into its slot on his back.

…Being a freelancer rather than part of an organization, he was probably meticulous about maintaining his gear.

Then he looked at me again.

Seeing me carrying X-23, he snorted in amusement.

…Was I really that awkward-looking?

“Follow me. We’re heading to a temporary base.”

“A base? …Power Broker’s?”

Could he have another base besides that high-rise in the upper-level High Town?

I asked, but Taskmaster shook his head.

“No. Mine.”

Without another word, he set off at a brisk pace, and I hurried to follow.

I had no idea where we were headed—only that I was walking behind Taskmaster.

“Hey…”

A voice murmured by my ear.

X-23’s voice.

“…What?”

“…Why did you protect me?”

…Did she really think I’d answer if she asked?

We’re enemies, her and I.

That’s what I thought—but I didn’t say it aloud.

“I didn’t protect you. Like I said earlier, you’re going to be interrogated. I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

I said it to scare her, but X-23 didn’t look the slightest bit afraid.

If anything, she seemed doubtful of my words.

“…It’s not like I’m ever going to forgive you. No matter what you do to me.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness.”

That was the truth.

I know full well I’m not the kind of person who can be forgiven.

“…That voice of yours is throwing me off.”

The mocking tone made my brow furrow.

It reminded me of something Herman had said to me the other day—“small.”

Sure, maybe I do look younger than others my age.

But that’s only because the organization’s brutal training wrecked my hormones, stunting my growth during my developmental years… damn it, it’s irritating.

Next time I see him, I’m definitely going to punch him.

I let my anger seep into my voice as I addressed X-23.

“Drop the attitude, X-23.”

“…I have a name, you know. Laura Kinney.”

“Ah, right. Got it, X-23.”

“…Ugh, you’re such a pain.”

Laura Kinney… the name she got from Sarah Kinney.

I have no right to call her that.

While we traded words, Taskmaster turned to look back at us.

“Quit the idle chatter.”

At his short rebuke, my brow twitched.

No way was this my fault.

“Uh-oh, you got in trouble…”

“Shut up.”

Slung over my shoulder, X-23 kept needling me.

…Maybe I shouldn’t have saved her after all.

---

"Here we are."

The place Taskmaster brought me to... was a shabby building in the Lower Lowtown district.
A lifeless place.

I see—perfect for a hideout.

Carrying X-23 in my arms, I followed Taskmaster walking ahead of me.

Suddenly, I felt someone’s presence.

I turned my face toward it.
...It wasn’t just my imagination.

While I stayed alert, Taskmaster glanced back.

"This is my associate. A skilled information broker."

"...I see."

When Taskmaster opened the door... sure enough, there was a beautiful woman in her early thirties wearing black clothing.
In her hand was a black... handgun.

"...Who’s this?"

"She’s my student, Mercedes."

...Huh?
I’m not a student anymore, though.

I thought that—but didn’t say it.

...Wait, I get it.
The reason Taskmaster is treating me this way is because he’s mistaken me for still being his student.

Sure, I used to be his student in the past... but our contract ended a while ago.
He probably remembers that I used to be his student, but forgot that the contract’s expired—and still assumes I am.

...Well, that works out nicely.
I’ll make use of it while I can.

"Haa... so, is it the one you’re carrying?"

"Of course. The one I’m carrying is our source of information."

I tossed X-23 onto the sofa.
She hit it with a thud and rolled over.

"Ugh... you could treat me a little more gently, you know."

She complained to me... but does this girl even realize she’s about to be interrogated?
Or is she just an optimist?
...We were literally trying to kill each other moments ago.

How can she act like this?

...Ah, I think I get it.
People with a healing factor tend to be more easygoing toward anyone who attacked them.
Since they’ll heal quickly, they don’t care as much.

...I know because I’m like that too.
Still—this one’s on a whole other level.

While X-23 was making a fuss, I noticed Mercedes staring at her with a surprised look.

"Laura Kinney..."

"You know her?"

"Well... yes."

The woman called Mercedes nodded.

"She’s a mutant."

"I can tell just by looking."

"She’s a fairly well-known mutant."

At Taskmaster’s reply, Mercedes’ face twisted as if she’d bitten into something bitter.

...I’d like to ask what she’s known for, but the atmosphere isn’t one I can just butt into.

"...What did she do?"

"Illegal entry. Into Madripoor."

"That’s a hell of a headache."

"On top of that, the Power Broker ordered me to kill her."

"...Haa."

At that, Mercedes pinched the bridge of her nose.
Her expression screamed What a pain.

"Why is it you always bring me such troublesome business?"

"If I could solve it on my own, I wouldn’t come here."

"Yeah, I’m sure... ah, seriously, my head hurts."

"Want some painkillers?"

"No, I don’t... honestly."

With a sigh, she walked over to the water dispenser and filled a cup with water.

"Pour me one too."

When Taskmaster said that, Mercedes shot him a sharp glare.

"I’m not your waitress."

"I know."

"...Ugh, whatever. Anyone else want some?"

Mercedes looked at me.

I shook my head.

There’s no way I’d drink water offered by some stranger I knew nothing about. It was too risky.

"Ah, I want some..."

From the sofa, X-23—curled up like a caterpillar—spoke up.
...I couldn’t help but feel exasperated.

Mercedes went to fetch a cup.

"…Do you have no sense of tension whatsoever?"

"It is what it is. Besides... I’ve been stuck in a container for so long, I’m really thirsty..."

That’s not what I meant.

"Here."

Mercedes handed me the cup.

X-23 looked up at me, her arms and legs still bound.

...Huh?

"Co–could you... give me a drink?"

"……"

I tilted the cup and let X-23 drink.
...It felt like feeding water to a baby bird.

Still... this girl had been trying to kill me just moments ago.
So why... why was she this relaxed now?

Was she planning to lull me into dropping my guard, then strike when I least expected it?

If so... she was a damn good strategist.

I handed the now-empty cup back to Mercedes and put some distance between us—ready to attack at any sign of suspicious movement.

When I glanced away, I saw Taskmaster rummaging through a shelf and pulling out a bottle of liquor.
He handled it like he was at home.

Well, he did call this his base, so—

"Ah! Don’t just help yourself!"

"Hm? What’s the problem?"

"It is a problem!"

Mercedes snatched the bottle from him, and Taskmaster sat down with a dissatisfied look.

...Their relationship intrigued me.
It didn’t seem like she was just some information broker.

"So? About this ‘source of information’... you planning to torture her or something?"

"That’s the idea... I’ll peel off some claws, maybe some skin. And... you’ve got acid here, right?"

"……Well, yeah, I do."

What kind of hideout is this?
Why was there acid in this office-like floor?
I had no idea.

As I pondered, Mercedes glanced at X-23 and then spoke to Taskmaster.

"About her interrogation—would you mind leaving it to me?"

"...Why?"

Taskmaster questioned her suggestion.
From my perspective—someone who didn’t trust her—it was unthinkable.

"Because, obviously, I’m experienced."

"...But—"

Just then, a sound came from Taskmaster’s chest.
...A mobile device.

He pressed a button and brought it to his ear.

"What is it?... I see. Got it... Right now?... I’ll be there immediately."

He ended the call and slipped the device into his pocket.

I could guess who it was, but still, I spoke up.

"What is it, Taskmaster?"

"Power Broker. He says he wants me back right away."

"Right away?"

I glanced at X-23.

"She’ll be in Mercedes’ hands. Let’s go."

"Uh... alright."

Taskmaster looked at Mercedes.

"Can I count on you?"

"Of course."

"She’s more dangerous than a wild beast—stay sharp."

"Naturally."

At that, X-23 reacted.

"...Wow. Rude."

Taskmaster, having said his piece, quickly left the room.
I followed him through the door, feeling a twinge of unease tugging at me as we left the hideout behind.

---

Red Cap... huh.

The one who killed my mom—my enemy.

Under that mask is... probably a woman younger than me.

It’s a memory I’d rather not recall, but I’m pretty sure when she killed my mom... she was just a small child.

Maybe, without realizing it, I’ve been avoiding thinking about it all this time.
I wanted to believe that under the mask was some hideous monster.
That the one who killed my mom was a worthless piece of trash who deserved to die—someone I could hate without doubt.

But underneath... she’s human. Just like the old me.

Someone who can do nothing but kill.
Who can’t survive without killing.

A so-called “Weapon” — a tool beneath even a human being.
A bullet given form, without will, existing only to kill whoever she’s told to... living that way.
That’s what she is.

I... was saved by my dad. That’s why I can live as a person now.
I found a path where I don’t have to kill to survive.

But her...?

She didn’t want to kill me.
Even though she killed my mom... why?
Was someone forcing her to do it?
Or maybe—

...Am I about to do something I can never take back?

I don’t know.
I don’t know anything.

All this time, I’ve pretended not to think about it... just clung to the belief that she was my enemy.
Because it was easier that way.
If I had something to hate, that alone gave me a purpose in this hopeless life.

But now... I want to know.
I need to know.

And for that, I have to escape.

I twisted my body.
The wire and bits of metal bit into me, sending sharp pain through my body.

That damn skull mask guy... he really went overboard tying me up.

『So, Red Cap is in Madripoor, then?』

A man’s voice reached my ears.

...The woman called Mercedes seemed to be on the phone.
I strained to listen, holding my breath and focusing on their conversation.

"Yes, that’s right. She’s here with Taskmaster... working under the Power Broker."

『Hm...』

The voice on the other end wasn’t Taskmaster’s.
She was reporting to someone else.

Who?

"And... Laura Kinney is right here in front of me."

『...Ah... I see. Really, what a handful. Sorry, but—』

"Yes, I’ll keep her here. But only temporarily."

Whoever it was also knew about me.
And “keep her here,” huh.

Plenty of people have grudges against me.
Back when I was X-23, I assassinated countless important figures.
Unforgivable sins... they’ve been chasing me from my past to this day.

I have to find a way to get out of here... but I also want more intel.
For now, I’ll just wait quietly.

『The unit is already on the way. Use the chaos to get her out.』

"Yes, that’s the plan."

A small click sounded as the call ended.

Still lying on the sofa, I spoke to Mercedes.

"That call just now... who was it?"

I was breathing hard from the blood loss.
She probably wouldn’t tell me, but I asked anyway to gauge her reaction—

"Oh, that? Nick Fury."

My mind... stopped.

"...Fury?"

"The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. You’ve heard of him, right?"

Yeah, I’ve heard of him.

It was hard to tell over the phone, but... now that she says it, yeah—it was Fury’s voice.

But the part I don’t get is—

"Why the hell are you talking to Fury?"

Mercedes opened a drawer.
From where I was, I couldn’t see inside.

She took out something that looked like a large pair of scissors... or pliers, and came closer to me.

...Come to think of it, she did say she was going to interrogate me.
Honestly, I’ve had enough pain for one day.

"I’m..."

The tool snapped down, cutting the wire.
With a loud snap, the restraints came loose.

"...a S.H.I.E.L.D. spy. Nice to meet you, troublemaker."