The Catch

“So, what’s the catch?” Bastion, towering leader of the heroic Aegis team asked, reclining behind his desk as much as his high-backed chair would allow.

“Excuse me?” Artemis detected a note of accusation in his tone. Her bow and quiver rested upon the wide marble surface between them, next to Bastion’s blue, articulated mask.

“What does she want?”  Bastion persisted. “My job? Yours? Perhaps a… Vision-craft, or Vision-cycle?” His lip curled into a wry half-smile.

“For her Vision quests?” Artemis snickered despite herself. “Boss, maybe ease up on the brand stuff a little?”

“‘Mantle’ stuff,” Bastion corrected, preferring the industry term. “But, back to my original question… what’s the catch? Why did she agree to do this for me?”

“Because you’re her boss…”

“I’ve been her boss…,” he interrupted.

“AND you asked nicely,” Artemis explained.

“I didn’t ask. You did.”

“On your behalf.”

“Artemis.” Bastion leaned forward, revealing a small tear in the fabric of his uniform, just below his massive left pectoral. He took care with his injured arm. “Please, do not make me ask a third time.”

Artemis sighed deeply. She then slid the cowl from her head, the fleeting shadow revealing a smear of black face paint and glassy, reddening eyes. “‘The catch,’” she repeated. “You dispatched your lieutenant to cajole our resident clairvoyant into revealing the exact date and time of your demise.” Artemis spat the last word as though it tasted sour on her tongue. “And you’re wondering about a catch? Of course there’s a catch, but not in the way that you’re thinking. I didn’t have to promise her anything.”

“Explain.”

Artemis shook her head. “She did it because…”

“Right. There’s always a ‘because.’” Bastion arched an eyebrow. “But we’ll get back to that. You said ‘a catch, but not in the way I’m thinking.’”

“You are a great many things, Boss, but simple-minded has never been one of them.”

Bastion’s eyes narrowed.

“Knowing when you die?!” Artemis said, fists shaking. “That, Bastion, is a burden that no man was meant to bear. Not even one with shoulders as broad as yours. Why on Earth would you want to know?”

“I do not fear death, Artemis.”

“NONE of us do! We’re superheroes, for heaven’s sake! I don’t even have powers! No, we don’t fear death, NOR do we chase it!”

Bastion relaxed. A smile split his face. “A. You don’t need powers, Artemis. And B. I am not chasing death.”

“Then what are you doing? WHY do you want this information?”

“I need it. I need to know.”

She sunk into her seat and dragged a gloved palm down her face, streaking paint. “To borrow a line from you, Bastion, please don’t make me ask a third time.”

Bastion tilted his head and stared into her eyes, his gaze all but devouring hers. “Dr. Woe brought us to our knees, Artemis.”

“Dr. Woe is in the Box!” she countered, referring to the specially designed maximum security prison that detained their enhanced adversary.

“Because we got lucky!” Bastion shouted, almost pleading.

“Because we’re the Aegis, Bastion! We saved the day, as we always do.”

“This time was different,” Bastion explained, sighing and breaking eye contact. “Dr. Woe took a sledgehammer to the rules of engagement…”

“There were rules?!? With him? Since when, Boss, and why had no one told me?”

“Artemis… Donner is dead. Blitzen, grieving, on indefinite hiatus…”

“We’re all grieving!” Artemis felt the weight of their losses as profoundly as he, and took offense at the notion that she needed such things explained to her.

“Except she’s probably hung her cape up for good! Visionary’s in a coma, it’s a minor miracle you got… the information from her before she succumbed to her injuries.” His slammed his good fist upon the desktop. “My arm is in a sling, Artemis!”

“We’re wounded, yes. We’ll need time to heal. But heal we will. And be all the stronger for it because, by God, we. Are. AEGIS.”

A coy smile found its way back to his angular features. “Which of us needs to take it easy with the mantle stuff again?”

Artemis ignored the dig. “What will this knowledge do for you, Bastion?”

“Plenty.”

“Such as?”

He studied her for a moment. “It will give me a window. I’m not thinking about the end. I’m considering the journey.”

“Never took you for a poet,” she said in a whisper, punctuating her snark with a defiant eyeroll.

“Life is a song.” Bastion needled. “I need to know how much time I have left to fortify what we’ve built.”

Artemis raised an open palm to discourage further comment. “Not sure what you mean, but we’ll table those details for a moment. What difference does it make exactly? If you knew you had another hundred years, you’d kick your feet up, take your time? That’s crap, it DOESN’T MATTER. We got our asses handed to us, and you can’t let that stand. I’m with you on that. Starting here, right now, we put in the work to ensure that we’re never caught…”

“Isn’t enough. No matter the strength of their conviction, everyone works harder with a gun to their head.”

“Not you. The Bastion I know would just crush the gun. You’re invulnerable anyway.”

He indicated his bandaged left arm with his chin. “Really can’t make that claim anymore, Artemis.”

“Bastion, you’re going to die. We all are. Eventually. The gun’s inherently there already, let that be your motivation,” she said.

“Not much of a threat, if I know I’ve got another six or seven decades before the trigger’s pulled.”

“But in not knowing, you’d be a fool to count on six or seven decades. You’ve got to assume it could be pulled within the next five minutes, and respond accordingly.”

“It isn’t the same.”

“It should be.”

Bastion drummed the desktop with the fingers of his good hand. “It isn’t just that. The amount of time I have left will inform the scope and complexity of how we proceed.”

Artemis considered his words. “Am I to take that to mean that you’ve been holding back up this point?”

“Of course not! But things have changed. We – I - need to do more.”

“Bastion!” Artemis counted her breaths for a moment. “I suffered a concussion; you sprained your arm. But Visionary? THREE fractured ribs, and she lost. Her. Leg.”

The gravity of her injuries was a spray of ice water to his face. “I hadn’t realized her injuries were that…”

“I pushed and pushed, until finally, she delivered what I asked for. What you asked for. Point being, maybe I caused her to slip into the coma.”

“Dr. Woe is the cause, and that’s the point.”

“The point is that I badgered her into crossing a line she swore she never would, and the reasons you’re giving for why you asked me to do what I did smell like bullshit.”

“You forget yourself, Artemis.”

“I forget nothing. I obtained something that you, with all your might, could not. You asked about a catch? How’s this for one? I’ll give this to you, to do with as you wish.” She extracted a thin, folded card from her pocket and closed her hand over it. “In exchange for the truth.”

“I could just take it from you.”

“But you won’t. I’m not just your second-in-command, not just your friend. I am your legacy. You made me ‘Artemis,’ and for that, I would follow you through all seven circles of hell. You’ll give me the truth not because I coaxed it out of you, but because you know I deserve it.”

Bastion shifted in his seat.

“Bastion. Christopher. Talk to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Artemis. Never. You’re the one… None of the others, none could handle the hard truths I face every day in this role. Except you.”

Artemis said nothing.

“But a lie by omission would still constitute a lie,” Bastion said, more to himself. “I suppose I have been lying to you.”

She remained stoic.

“I’ve met someone,” Bastion continued with an unfamiliar apprehension. “Fallen in love.”

“That’s… that’s great. But what’s that got to do with…”

Bastion’s eyes wandered.

“Who?” Artemis pressed.

Silence.

“Who is she?”

Bastion gave nothing away.

“Is it a he?”

His exasperated eyes found hers again.

“Tell me,” Artemis insisted.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“She… oh my God, Artemis said, understanding. “She’s a civilian.”

“Listen to me…”

“You’re dating a civilian?!?! ‘No civilian attachments,’ Bastion! That was your rule! I’ve GIVEN myself to y… your mission, and you defy YOUR bylaws AND have me badger Visionary into submission because you picked up a CIVILIAN girlfriend?!?!”

“I didn’t plan it.”

“Or avoid it.”

“Leslie,” Bastion began, jarring her with the use of her given name. “I’m sorry.”

Artemis’ eyes, lanterns in a field of black, burned. After too many seconds, she shrugged. “The heart wants what it wants, as they say.” She chewed her bottom lip.  “Tell me about her. This enchanting woman whose charms led you to break all the rules.”

“Not all the rules.”

“Just one big rule.”

Bastion brightened. “She’s a barista. Twenty-seven. She lost her mother to ovarian cancer a few years ago, and her father to… to Riot.”

“The anarchist.”

Bastion nodded. “She’s putting herself through law school. To join our fight, without a cape.”

“Not all heroes wear them,” Artemis teased, still angry.

“You don’t.”

“I need freedom of movement. No powers, remember?”

Bastion drew himself to his full seated height. “You have the vision of an eagle, and the surest shot of any being – human, meta, or other – on this globe. Along with a pretty solid roundhouse.”

Artemis rolled her eyes.

“You’re also one of only two people who know of the… chink in my armor.” He touched a hand to the rip in his costume, and the purple, blistering welt at the center of it.

“I wish to God I didn’t.”

“Contingencies, Artemis. In case I were ever to…”

“…go dark?” she finished for him.

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t. Ever.”

“The Icon did,” Bastion challenged. “Used his knowledge of my vulnerability against me too.”

“That’s not fair. This was Dr. Woe’s doing.” She’d never much cared for the other veteran hero, but mind control by another represented the ultimate defense.

“The point is, I can bleed. And now the world knows. Has seen it. And we need to prepare.”

“You feel exposed now. I get that.” Artemis reached to grasp his resting hand. “Welcome to my life; just flesh, blood, and a little resolve over here. But a sprain, an Achilles heel? These shouldn’t worry you. Civilian attachments on the other hand? Major weakness.”

“Some might argue a source a strength.”

“Poets might argue that. Me? I prefer a bow and arrow. You? Fists. Strongest on the planet.”

Bastion chuckled. “Think I’m the strongest?”

“Icon’s softened in his old age.” She shot him a wink.

“He’s 42, Artemis.”

“But an even bigger vulnerability would be an obsession with one’s own death. Makes you fatalistic. Basing every move upon your own anticipated defeat.”

“It sharpens focus.”

“You say focus, I say tunnel vision,” Artemis snapped.

“She’s pregnant, Leslie. Her name is Nicole. And she’s carrying my child.”

The words hit Artemis like a closed fist. “I know I’m probably supposed to congratulate you, but I…”

“I understand.”

“Do you?!” Artemis asked, bruised. “You let her in…”

“She met me as a Christopher.”

“But unless she’s a moron, she’s figured out that you’re Bastion! Or, she would have, if you hadn’t told her. Which you most certainly did before… inseminating her.”

Bastion couldn’t argue this point. “I need to know that I at least outlive Nicole’s pregnancy. Beyond that, I want to know how much time I have to ensure my child has a fighting chance in this world.”

Artemis’ lips smacked softly as they parted. “Your child’s best chance would be estrangement from its father. A father who should continue fighting to make this world safer for everyone’s children. With whatever time he – we – have remaining.”

“I’m asking you – my dearest friend, my closest ally, and should I be so fortunate to receive your acceptance, godmother of my child – to honor our agreement. I gave you the truth, you give me that card. Or tell me what it says.”

Emotion choked Artemis’ reply. “I don’t want you to know what it says, what the hell makes you think I looked at it?”

Bastion’s brow furrowed. “Why the tears?”

“Because this is the end of us. You, the indomitable Bastion, are doubting yourself as a hero and leader. And worse, you’re setting a timeline. You’re looking to an end.”

“I’m not.”

“You are! And this is me – your dearest friend, closest ally, and yes, godmother to a baby whom I will love to death – this is me asking you not to open this card.”

“Artemis…”

“Visionary doesn’t share death dates. EVER. And why has she sworn a vow NEVER to do so? Because the first and only time she’d ever done it before lead to disaster.” Artemis laced her fingers together upon her lap.  “At first, she and her brother treated her burgeoning precognitive abilities like a game. Growing bolder with each new vision.  Until she witnessed his death. And after hours of his insistence, she shared a date and time. Within that very year.”

“Why would she reveal…”

“Because he was her brother! And they were young. And dumb. She didn’t tell him the how, just the when. She at least had sense enough to withhold details. But it didn’t matter. Knowing broke him. He grew depressive. Turned to alcohol and opiates; he lost all sense of self. And ultimately, he…”

“…stumbled in front of an oncoming train.” Bastion knew this part of Visionary’s story.

“At the exact moment she’d predicted.” Artemis winced. “You see this knowledge as a resource. But what if knowing sets things into motion?”

“Knowing you’ll die of cancer five years from now could be the very thing that saves your life.”

“Cancer isn’t what kills most people,” Artemis countered. “And you’re presuming an ability to change outcomes.”

“Couldn’t we?”

Artemis shook her head. “Our singular test case says ‘no.’”

“I’m not looking to change anything. I’ve accepted the fact that my eventual demise is inevitable.”

“Which terrifies me more than Dr. Woe ever could. You’re playing God.”

“I’m being a father.”

“Bastion! Knowing that we’ll all eventually die gives our lives meaning. Not knowing when is what gives us the freedom to make the most of our time. The world doesn’t need a Bastion with a five-year plan…”

Bastion swallowed hard and arched an eyebrow.

“I didn’t look at the card!” she insisted. “The world, this team, Nicole, your child? We need a Bastion who’s thinking long run. You’re scared. So am I. But this, this is a crutch. An arbitrary security blanket. And heroes don’t need blankets. We’ve got capes.”

“Not you.”

“Not me.” Artemis shared a laugh with him. “Holding your baby would be my joy. We can provide them a safer world. Together.”

Bastion’s smile evaporated. He rotated his palm upward, which – based upon the set to his jaw – suggested he wasn’t seeking her touch again.

Numbly, Artemis deposited the folded card into Bastion’s open hand. An eternal minute elapsed before he smiled again. He then crumpled and tossed the card into the wastepaper basket beside his desk. Without opening it.

“Now, get out of here,” Bastion ordered. “I want a full report on Visionary’s condition – and Blitzen’s – within the hour. I need to connect with the warden.”

“Of the Box?”

“Yes. I’d like to handle Dr. Woe’s interrogation personally,” Bastion explained.

“Bleed him a little.”

“Artemis,” he said, a warning in his tone.

“I know, I know.”

“Within the hour.”

“Copy. And Bastion?” Artemis began, eyes dewy. “Thank you.” She collected her gear, slipped the cowl over her head and departed, the door clicking softly as it closed behind her.

Bastion nodded. He respected Artemis profoundly. But with so few assurances in life, and the uncertainly of Visionary’s fate, ensuring his child’s safety took precedence over all else.

He plucked the card from the bin, and unfurled it slowly. The card simply read Right Now.

Bastion’s heart sank, as realization settled into his stomach.

The shattering glass of his office door barely registered. But the arrowhead piercing the left side of his chest, between his fourth and fifth ribs – his armor’s chink – monopolized his attention in an instant. Artemis’ heavy, deliberate footfalls – only heard when she wanted to be heard – as she stormed back into his office commandeered his thinking from there.

“Damn you, Bastion,” Artemis roared, lowering her bow.

Bastion’s blood spurted through his clutching fingers. “Why?”

“Visionary didn’t tell me. She wouldn’t. Because she knew what I know. That knowing only leads to catastrophe. “

“Why?!” Bastion asked again, his voice faint.

“I love you. Always have, and always will. But you betrayed me. Your secrets are ours. You lead us, and now you’ve shared intel with a civilian that you had no right to share. Bad enough on its own.”

“I..”

“But your giving up? It cripples us, and I won’t let that stand. I’m your legacy, and will represent you proudly. Words can’t convey the depth of my heartbreak. Deeper still, because I’ll now need to eliminate Visionary.” Artemis leaned closer. “She’s unconscious not because of a coma, but because of a powerful sedative. We don’t yet know the full extent of her abilities, but she can’t ever know or ‘see’ what’s happened here. For this, I am also sorry.”

“Dddddon’t…”

“I’ll be stopping for a coffee before visiting Blitzen. My words are true, I’d love to meet Nicole, and to hold your child.” Artemis’ tears stormed. “Which is now a problem. I cannot have civilian attachments.” She kissed her index and middle fingers and placed them to Bastions lip’s, flecked with bloody spittle. “Rest easy, Bastion. The Aegis will rebuild. And carry on.”