Chapter 80: Cry for the Moon – Part 6

I drove the car forward.

"…Can’t you go a little faster?"

The escort vehicle was heavily armored.
On top of that, several different materials had been combined into angular metal plating that covered the body.
Simply put, the thing was heavy.

An indistinct mix of impatience and guilt—feelings I couldn’t quite name—swirled inside me, settling into irritation.

…The Captain was trying to help me.
Even Falcon… I could feel him holding back in his attacks.

Why were they trying to save me?
There’s no way I’m worth saving.

No matter what I did, this car wouldn’t go any faster.
I touched my mask’s jaw and thought.

…They’d figured out that I was a girl—worse, that I was underage.
Where had that information leaked from?

…I wanted to believe they hadn’t connected me to 《Michelle Jane》.
If they had gotten that far… I could no longer stay with Peter and the others.
That… was something I had to avoid.

There was less than a year until I graduated from Midtown High… Even if my activities as 《Michelle Jane》 ended after graduation—for now—

No, wait.

Why was I even acting as 《Michelle Jane》 in the first place?
Why was it necessary for me to infiltrate 《Midtown High》?
I already knew who was behind the bombing of our Hell’s Kitchen base.

…That direct superior—the executive who gave me my orders—had told me to transfer into the school.

Was that an order from the boss of the Unseelie Court organization?
Or was it the executive’s own decision?

"…………"

Speeding down the road in clear violation of traffic laws, I frowned.

The original explanation had been: “Since the base was blown up, hide until things cool down.”
That’s why I’d been given a fake ID and forced to transfer into the high school… but that didn’t make sense.
There was no reason to enroll me in a school.

If hiding was the goal, I could’ve just holed up in some basement.
There was no reason to deliberately send me to a public school and risk my cover being blown.

…Someone had a reason—some purpose—for making me transfer.

That was the only reasonable conclusion.

Why?
Was it because they knew Peter was Spider-Man?
To gather information…? No, if they knew that, they would have already moved to attack him.

Plenty of people hated him.
If they told Kingpin his real identity, it would fetch a fortune.

But they hadn’t.
Which meant… there was another reason.

Was there something at that school?

…No, was it different?
Was the important part simply me attending school?

For what… purpose?

…No matter how much I thought about it, there was no answer.
And no one was going to tell me.

…I’d gone to that school, and ended up making “friends” like Peter, Gwen… and Ned.

Because of that, now… I’d “changed.”

…No.
I’d realized that I’d changed.

Before, I’d never hesitated to kill.
I could hide my face and heart behind a mask.
But now…

If that was their goal, then whoever gave the order to send me to high school… is one twisted person.

…Was this some kind of test?
To see if I could adopt normal values and still not betray the organization?
To make sure they had that assurance…?

A large warehouse came into view ahead.
Our destination—Lower Lowtown’s central logistics hub.

I tried the door… automatic lock.
No good.

The key… the escort guys had it.
I kicked the door open, smashing it apart.

The glass shattered with a loud crash.
I got out of the car and rolled my shoulders.

Power Broker was probably already inside.
I should head in immediately.

…Though I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.

I remembered the technology I’d seen in the fight with Falcon—the one that turned people into monsters—and the malice embedded within it.
It was revolting enough to make me sick.

It wasn’t the monster’s appearance that was vile.
What was vile was the technology itself… and Power Broker, who used it on people without hesitation.

He didn’t see his test subjects as human.
He just trampled the weak to satisfy his own greed.

…Damn it.
I shouldn’t think about it.

I was a dog on the organization’s leash… no, a monster just like them.

I’d told the Captain already.
I couldn’t betray them.

And if I’d chosen not to betray them… then I had no choice but to kill my heart and keep committing evil without thinking about anything else.

So I needed to stop thinking—

An engine sound reached my ears.

I instantly turned around.
A motorcycle… someone was approaching.

I deployed the thigh protector and gripped my knife’s hilt.
Drawing it, I focused on the source of the sound.

It was Laura Kinney.

Before long, the bike arrived, and its rider set foot on the ground.

"…………"

What had happened to Mercedes, Taskmaster’s associate?
…No, this was Laura.
She wouldn’t have killed her.

Or… had Mercedes betrayed us?

She had seemed like she was hiding something from both me and Taskmaster.
I didn’t know what it was, but I couldn’t trust her.

For Laura to escape from restraints like those, it made far more sense to assume she’d had help from someone.

Laura stepped off the bike and took a step toward me.

"Been a while, huh?"

"…………"

"Getting tied up and dumped on a sofa… wasn’t exactly a fun time, you know?"

She wasn’t extending her claws from the backs of her hands—
No, she hadn’t grown them at all.
That meant she wasn’t in combat mode.

"No reply? You’re really no fun."

"…What are you thinking?"

She had every reason to hate me.
After all, I was the one who killed her mother.
There was no reason she wouldn’t.

"Who knows… What do you think?"

"Whatever you’re thinking, I’ll just kill you."

I tightened my grip on the knife.
This time, I’d be fine.

No guilt to stop me from fighting.
No hesitation.

I could kill her.
Without a second thought, I could fight her.

"Why don’t we talk a little first?"

And yet—

"…There’s nothing to—"

"Do you remember my mom?"

Why would she ask that?

"You mean Sarah Kinney?"

"…So you do remember."

"And what of it?"

Even if she showed no intention to fight… it wasn’t that I couldn’t.
I could kill an unarmed person just as easily.
That’s the kind of person I am.

"Could it be that you…"

Laura narrowed her eyes.
They held suspicion—but also the look of someone who already knew the answer.

"…Do you remember every single person you’ve ever killed?"

My body tensed.
My grip on the knife loosened.

"On what basis—"

"My mom died eight years ago. That long ago… even I can barely picture her face anymore. At this point, it’s less a memory and more something I’d just call a ‘remembrance.’"

"And what of it?"

"Even I, the one who lost her, have a fading memory. You’ve killed far more people over the years… and yet you still remember my mom—just one target among many."

It felt like she was laying my inner self bare, and before I realized it, I’d stepped back.

"So I just thought… maybe you remember the others you’ve killed too."

"…I just have a good memory."

In truth, the super-soldier serum had sharpened my recall.
I had never once forgotten anyone I’d killed.

Bank teller Davis.
Stockbroker Marco.
Mobster Clark.
Police officer Scott.
A simple mother named Baker.
Con artist Bennett.
Otto, who had been a bodyguard for a VIP…

I remember.

Every face, every name… and how I killed them.

I can’t forget.

"…Why do you remember?"

"I told you before, didn’t I? My memory—"

"No. I mean, why keep remembering? Why not just forget?"

… I can’t let this woman keep talking.

I smother the unease with killing intent and start walking toward her.

"I think… that must be a really painful thing."

"…Shut up."

I tighten my grip on the knife.

"Maybe you don’t actually want to do this. Why work for a group like—"

"Shut up…!"

I swing my arm back and thrust the knife forward.

Laura thrusts her palm out to meet it… and the blade pierces her hand.

"…Talk to me."

She holds it there.
I can’t push or pull.

"There’s nothing to talk about…"

"You’re my mother’s killer… but even so, what if… what if it wasn’t actually your fault?"

"I killed her. There’s nothing more to—"

"What if you were a victim too?"

"That’s not true…!"

Her grip tightens.

"Then that means I almost killed someone I shouldn’t have."

"Don’t push your delusions… onto me…!"

"Too bad. I’m selfish like that."

"You…!"

I kick her in the stomach.

"…Ugh!"

When I release the knife, she goes flying and tumbles to the ground.

"I killed your mother… so why—why would you… why would you say something like that—"

My thoughts are a mess.
This woman is an idiot.
I can’t understand her.
She’s insane.

Coughing, Laura glares up at me.

"I’m not ‘X-23’ anymore. I’m Laura Kinney… the daughter of Wolverine."

"And what of—"

"That means when someone’s in trouble, it’s normal to help them."

She takes a breath.

Then, claws extend from both her hands.
Two claws on each.

"I don’t need help."

"Then I’ll just force you to accept it. It might hurt a little… but you’ll survive."

What is with these people?
Captain.
Falcon.
Winter Soldier.
Even Laura Kinney—the girl whose mother I killed.

Why do they all… want to help me?

…No. I do understand.

I’ve realized it.

Ah… yes.

It’s because they’re heroes.

I know this because I used to read their comics.

No matter the circumstances… even if it costs them their own lives, they’ll still try to save others.
I know what they look like when they do that.

And I once admired that.

I never wanted to be some special hero with superpowers.
But I did want to be the kind of person who could help someone in need.

The kind of person I can never… ever… be again.

Laura had become a hero.

…What is this feeling in my chest?

Is it jealousy?
Or anger?
Envy, admiration, hatred, sorrow…?

It’s something that eats away at me—
something that makes me weaker.

I don’t need it.

Throw it away.

Don’t let it drag me down.

I gripped the knife—tighter, tighter, tighter…

---

I plummet.

Ahead, I catch sight of Taskmaster peering down from the edge of the overpass.

Glass from the ceiling shatters as I crash into a bar lit in pink neon.

Looks like it was still open for business—startled patrons scatter in a panic.

…My bones have taken damage.

When I force myself to stand, the bartender behind the counter stares at me.

“Sorry… I’ll pay for it later…”

He nods repeatedly, looking both surprised and frightened.

…From above, I hear something else falling.

I instantly raise my shield overhead.

“You should evacuate imme—”

My words are cut short as Taskmaster’s sword slams against my shield, shattering the tiles beneath my feet.

“Kh…!”

Several of my ribs are broken.
A fracture runs through the bones in my leg.

Pain twists my face before I can stop it.

“Even at a time like this, you’re worried about someone else?”

“It’s because it’s a time like this… that I am!”

I push back with my shield, pivoting on one foot.
Swinging through, I slam Taskmaster with the shield, sending him crashing into a shelf lined with liquor bottles.

The sound of shattering glass rings out again and again as alcohol sprays across the floor.
Some of it… looks expensive.

The bartender… seems to have already evacuated.
Can’t blame him—anyone would faint at the sight of this.

Taskmaster kicks aside the splintered remains of the shelf and rises to his feet.

“Ah, what a terrible waste.”

“You like alcohol? Then drink yourself into a stupor… and just sleep it off right there.”

“Unfortunately… I’m not in that kind of mood. I need to kill you now, and go after that woman.”

That woman… Laura?
Ever since hearing about a woman named Mercedes, he’s been on edge.

“…So you’ve got a woman precious to you, too.”

Taskmaster grips a splintered piece of wood.

“Who’s to say?”

Then he throws it.

I deflect it with my shield.
It was aimed dead-on at my throat.
An unnerving precision… but that’s exactly why it was predictable.

“Is this your way of covering up embarrassment?”

“…I don’t know anything about Mercedes.”

“You don’t?”

Taskmaster strips off his liquor-soaked cloak, revealing the skull mask beneath.

“Ah, to be exact—I don’t remember. Not a thing.”

“You don’t remember… yet you think she’s precious to you?”

“You wouldn’t understand… no one would.”

He hurls the cloak at me—then hides behind it.

In the next instant, the tip of his sword thrusts out from beneath the fabric.

“Kh—”

I raise my shield just in time to block.

My vision is completely covered by the cloak.
I can’t tell when—or where—the next strike will come.

Grabbing the cloak, I fling it aside… but Taskmaster is already gone.

“Where—”

I fling my shield backward.
Taskmaster, clinging to the wall, blocks it with his sword.

He drops to the floor, and I retrieve the rebounding shield.

“…You saw me?”

“No—just a hunch.”

Taskmaster’s expression sours at my reply, and he readies his stance again.

I need time—any scrap of it—to let my injuries knit. So I speak.

“Mercedes… you said? She’s not dead. Laura isn’t killing anyone anymore.”

“…I’ve done my research on that woman—X-23. She used to kill. There’s no guarantee.”

“True… but—”

“Once your hands are drenched in blood… it’s not so easy to wash them clean.”

Immediately, Taskmaster raises his sword—and throws it.

An unconventional technique… but underpinned by skill honed to perfection.
I’m a split second late to react, but manage to bat it down with my shield.

But the sword was only a feint.
Taskmaster himself is already closing in.

I swing my shield—

He swings his sword—

They collide.

“Kh!”

“Hmph…”

I twist my body—

He twists his body—

Our kicks collide in midair.

“Guh!?”

“…Heh.”

We both take damage.
But my injuries are the worse of the two.

Sure, in raw physical ability, the super-soldier serum gives me an advantage.
But with wounds and fatigue stacking up… that edge has all but disappeared.

Which means… I’m the one taking the heavier damage here.
The impact reverberates through the already-fractured bones.

Still, I don’t fall.
I steady myself immediately.

I raise my shield—

He raises his shield—

And we slam into each other head-on.

Neither of us yields an inch.
Taskmaster lets out a booming laugh.

“Fuhaha! Well? How does it feel… to be beaten at your own skill?”

“I haven’t… lost yet…!”

If we’re both using the same techniques—

I knock him back with my shield—

He swings his claws—

And my chest is ripped open.

“Ghh—ah!?”

Not shallow at all… several deep lines are carved into my body.

Taskmaster looks down at me and speaks.

“I’m a jukebox. Switch the record, and I can be anyone.”

“Haa… haa…!”

I stand, clutching my chest.
Applying pressure to slow the bleeding.

The serum’s regenerative boost keeps it from being fatal.
…Not as fast as those with a healing factor like them, but I do heal quicker than most.

“But… the thing is—if you can be anyone, that means you’re no one at all.”

“…What are you saying?”

“The only identity I have… is the name ‘Taskmaster.’ No memories… no treasured moments to hold onto. But there’s one thing I do still remember.”

Taskmaster continues his monologue.

“The taste… of chicken souvlaki.”

“…Souvlaki?”

Greek cuisine… skewered meat.
This one—chicken, seasoned with an array of spices.

Taskmaster gives a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Isn’t it absurd? I’ve forgotten the face and name of the person… but I still remember the meal they made for me. Her cooking tasted just like that.”

“…So, you…”

“I think she knows my past. But I don’t know her.”

“……”

“I want to know. Even if the memories fade as soon as I gain them…”

He picks his sword back up from the ground.

“That’s why—anyone who harms her… I’ll kill them all.”

“…I see. So you too… fight for someone.”

I finally understand the source of the sympathy I’ve been feeling toward him, and rise to my feet.

“Enough talk. Was that enough to pay your fare to the afterlife?”

“No… this isn’t nearly enough.”

“Greedy man… for someone who’s supposed to be a national symbol.”

“Got a problem with that?”

“No… I’m just as greedy myself.”

Taskmaster levels his sword—

Beep-beep-beep.

The sharp electronic tone cut through the air.

“….”

Taskmaster’s gaze shifted toward his cloak.
The sound was coming from somewhere around there.

His comms device, maybe?

As I lowered my guard, Taskmaster immediately moved toward it.

…For now, I could use any chance to rest my body.
I take the opportunity to steady my breathing.

From beneath the cloak, he pulled out a handheld device… and pressed a button.

“It’s me… Ah… I see. Good.”

Even while speaking, he never dropped his guard against me.
The hand not holding the device still gripped his sword.

And I, in turn, made no move to attack Taskmaster.
Normally, the smart thing would be to strike during such an opening… but that wouldn’t be fair.

“I understand… Ah, you too.”

He pressed the button again, ending the call.

…My body feels a little better now.
I call out to him.

“…Who was that from?”

“Do we know each other well enough for me to tell you who I talk to on the phone?”

The tense air from moments ago had dissipated.
If anything, Taskmaster seemed relieved of some of his anger.

I throw out the first name that comes to mind.

“Mercedes?”

“…Hmph.”

A silent confirmation.

Without denying it, he stowed the device back into his cloak… then donned the tattered thing once more.

“I’ve got a new job. No reason to fight you anymore… I’m leaving.”

“Wait.”

I instinctively called out, halting his retreat.

“What is it? I’m not exactly free right now.”

“I want to hear what you know… about Redcap.”

“…And why should I have any reason to tell you?”

A perfectly reasonable question. I nodded.

“If you refuse… I’ll do everything in my power to hold you here. And from the look of it, you’re in a hurry.”

“…”

“Did I hit the mark?”

“…I told you, we have no reason to be enemies.”

Our eyes lock.

A silent, seconds-long staring contest.

…The one to look away first was Taskmaster.

“…You sly bastard.”

With a sigh that bordered on amusement, Taskmaster turned back to face me.

“I’ll tell you why she can’t betray the organization. But in exchange… swear you won’t interfere with me again.”

“…Fine. I won’t get in your way. But only for today.”

“That’s enough.”

It’s only a verbal agreement.
…But I have no intention of breaking it.

And by the look in his eyes, Taskmaster seemed certain I wouldn’t.

…Whether that meant he trusted me, or just understood my nature, I couldn’t tell.

Taskmaster crossed his arms.

“The organization she’s part of… the Unseelie Court… they’ve fitted their agents with a safety mechanism.”

“Unseelie Court…?”

The name of a group I’d never even heard of slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“What? You didn’t know? …Well, whatever. I’ll throw in that much for free.”

Taskmaster gave a mocking smile, as if to belittle me.

“Their origins lie in a former British special forces unit. They turned their killing skills into a commodity… greedy, money-grubbing assassins… yes, much like myself.”

“An organization like that…?”

“A grand name, but… they’re petty, vile scum.”

Taskmaster spat the words like venom.
…A wicked organization, hated even by mercenaries who already flout the law.
Such people, operating in the shadows without the world’s knowledge…

It was a chilling thought.

I steadied myself and asked Taskmaster another question.

“…This safety mechanism the Unseelie Court uses—what exactly is it? What did they do to her—”

“A bomb.”

My eyes narrowed.

“…A bomb?”

“Yes. So they can dispose of traitors instantly… they’ve planted explosives near each agent’s heart. …Or so I’ve heard. Second-hand, but likely true.”

For a moment, the shock deafened me to everything else.
…They hold their agents’ lives hostage, forcing loyalty… and compelling them to commit atrocities?

That was—

…unspeakable.

“Lost for words? This world harbors evils far beyond what you imagine.”

“…And the trigger? They say it’s for betrayal, but someone must be holding the switch, right?”

Taskmaster exhaled in exasperation.

“…You’re really that desperate to save her?”

“Please. Just tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

He spat the words at me as I clung to hope.

“I only know such a thing exists… I’ve forgotten the details of her, but the organization stayed in my memory. Don’t expect more than that from me.”

Taskmaster’s memory was… flawed.
If anything, I should consider myself lucky he recalled even this much.

I opened my mouth.

“…So she’s living with a death sentence hanging over her, forced to kill against her will…? That’s—”

“Cruel? Perhaps. But she’s still responsible.”

His cold dismissal made me stare at him.

“Responsible? You’re saying she’s responsible?”

“If she hated killing so much, she should have betrayed the organization and died quickly.”

“That’s absurd—!”

Taskmaster snorted, amused by my anger.

“To keep killing just to save one’s own skin… no, to kill without resolve, merely drifting along—that’s something to be spat on.”

“You’re wrong… She just doesn’t have a choice—!”

“Choices are something you carve out with your own hands. They never come to those who wait for someone else to make them.”

I moved to close the distance between us—

—and pain exploded through my body.

Broken bones and deep cuts screamed at me, twisting my face in agony.

“This pointless chatter ends here. As promised—don’t get in my way.”

“…Tch.”

I didn’t want to admit it.
I really didn’t.
But… I could at least understand where he was coming from.

Still… she—

“…She’s still just a child, isn’t she?”

“…Yes.”

Taskmaster raised his arm, and a wire shot out from the gauntlet on his forearm.

“Wait, we’re not done—”

The line fired upward through a hole in the ceiling, and he launched himself into the air.

My eyes tracked him—both arms now firing wires in quick alternation as he swung away at remarkable speed.

…Web-swinging?
No—wire-swinging.
Like something out of Spider-Man.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the ground.
…My whole body was a wreck.
I needed medical attention.

I reached into the pouch at my waist and pulled out a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical kit… jabbing a syringe into my side.

A thin, translucent green liquid seeped into my veins.

I steadied my breathing and took stock of my condition.

…These wounds were serious.
It had been a long time since I’d been hurt this badly.

If not for the damage I’d already taken from Redcap, I wouldn’t have struggled nearly this much.
…Not that I regretted it.

I replayed Taskmaster’s words in my mind.

The organization.
The Unseelie Court.
The bombs.
The forced killings…

My brow furrowed.

The kind of evil I can never forgive… is those who feed on others.
Those who trample on others’ happiness, hoarding all the profit for themselves—
—without even dirtying their own hands.

And binding a child’s life with a bomb… forcing her to kill others?

…That’s unforgivable.

Before I knew it, I’d slammed a fist into the floor.
Shattered tiles clattered.

…The sound must have drawn attention, because I heard movement nearby.

“…Who’s there…?”

I turned instantly toward the noise.

…It was the bartender.
He hadn’t evacuated yet?

The thought had barely crossed my mind when I remembered the state of the place.
…Not good.

“…Sorry. I’ve caused quite a mess.”

“A-ah, no, it’s fine, but…”

“I’ll pay for the damages. Can you tell me the name of the place?”

At my question, the bartender pointed to the wall.
Painted there were the words Princess Bar.

“Got it. Thanks. One more thing… I need a favor.”

I stood, giving the bartender’s shoulder a pat, then pointed toward the back of the bar—outside, in what looked like a parking area, where a large motorcycle was parked.

“That bike yours?”

Madripoor’s wide but narrow roads made motorcycles a common choice.

“No… it belongs to the owner…”

“I’ll pay whatever you ask. Sell it to me.”

“W-wait… If I sold it without permission, the owner would kill me… Just let me call him, alright?”

“…Of course. Sorry for the trouble.”

While the bartender made the call, I checked my body’s condition again.

The medicine didn’t instantly heal wounds—
—it dulled the pain, boosted my recovery rate, but it wasn’t a healing factor that could regenerate injuries on the spot.

Still, it would be enough.

I had to regroup with Fury and the others immediately.
And come up with a plan to save her—
—to save Redcap.

There was no way I could afford to rest.