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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - RILEY (PART ONE)
🕑 Added 2024-12-30 11:30:39 +0000 UTCRiley’s fingers tightened around her scalpel, the metal digging into her skin. Jack’s confidence might have been unwavering, but she couldn’t shake the images burned into her mind: the Siberian falling apart, William Manton brought low, and Superman standing there as if nothing could touch him.
This wasn’t what they had planned for. Jack always said preparation was key, that their games needed to unfold perfectly, their dance of terror orchestrated down to the smallest detail. But Superman… he wasn’t playing along.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, letting her mind refocus on what she could control. “Jack,” she called again, her voice steadier this time. “If you want to survive this, we need to use Plan B.”
Jack’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, his eyes narrowing. “Plan B, Bonesaw? That’s… drastic. Are you certain?”
“Do you think we have time to waste?” she snapped, the irritation in her tone surprising even herself. “He’s not someone we can toy with. He’s not like them.” She gestured toward the distant ruins where dead and broken civilians littered the city. “He’s different.”
Jack didn’t respond right away, his eyes darting back toward Superman. The man in the cape had shifted now, standing taller, his gaze scanning the rubble for other threats. For them.
“You may be right,” Jack said finally, his tone laced with a rare hint of caution. “But if we do this, you’ll need to handle it. I can’t afford distractions.”
Bonesaw didn’t hesitate. Her hand darted to her wrist, where the hidden console embedded beneath her sleeve buzzed faintly. The holographic map she’d studied countless times sprang to life before her eyes, its glowing red dots marking the locations of the bombs she’d planted across the city. Each one was a masterpiece, crafted with her own two hands—chemical weapons so intricate, so insidious, that they could reduce the most resilient of Parahumans to broken shells.
She swallowed hard, her fingers hovering over the activation mechanism. A part of her hadn’t wanted to use them. It wasn’t about guilt or morality—those were foreign concepts to her. It was about pride. Bonesaw preferred the intimate artistry of her work, the slow, deliberate way she could break someone apart and rebuild them into something new. Pressing a button felt almost… impersonal.
But Superman had changed the rules.
She opened her mouth to speak, her voice ringing out loud and clear. “Superman!”
The hero’s head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing as he spotted her perched on the crumbling wall. He didn’t move, not yet, but she could feel the weight of his attention pressing down on her like a physical force.
“I think you’ve made your point,” she said, her grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re big, you’re strong, and you’re oh-so-heroic. But let’s see how heroic you are when the stakes get higher.”
“What are you talking about?”
Bonesaw held up the holographic map, letting the glowing dots reflect in her wide, innocent-looking eyes. “I’ve got surprises all over this city. Bombs. Little gifts I’ve been working on for weeks. And inside them? A special cocktail of nasties that would make even you scream.”
Superman’s eyes narrowed further. “What kind of bombs?”
“Oh, nothing big. Just a mix of toxins, viruses, and fun little parasites. They won’t kill right away. Oh no, that would be too boring. Instead, they’ll make people suffer. Slowly, agonizingly. No cure, no antidote, nothing. Just pure, exquisite pain.”
His face darkened, his calm veneer cracking just slightly. “You’re lying.”
Bonesaw’s grin widened. “Am I?” She pressed another button, and somewhere in the distance, an explosion echoed, faint but unmistakable. A plume of smoke rose into the sky, and she watched his shoulders tense as he processed the sound, his jaw tightening. “Oops! There goes one. Just a little test run. Don’t worry, I’ve still got plenty more.”
Superman’s voice was steel now. “Deactivate them,” he ordered, stepping forward.
Bonesaw laughed, high and sweet, the sound clashing with the severity of her words. “Oh, I don’t think so. See, you’re making this really hard for us. So here’s the deal: you let us go—save the city, be the big hero—and I’ll disarm the bombs. No tricks, no funny business. We walk away, and the city gets to live another day.”
“And if I don’t?”
Bonesaw’s smile faltered, just for a second, and something darker flickered in her eyes. “Then I set them all off. Every last one. And I promise you, Superman, you can’t save them all. Not even you are that fast.”
Superman didn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on hers. For a moment, Bonesaw felt a flicker of uncertainty—he wasn’t reacting the way most people did in this situation. There was no fear, no panic, just a quiet, steady resolve.
“You don’t have to do this, Riley,” he finally said, his tone softening. “You’re better than this.”
Her fingers twitched against the console, and she scowled. “Don’t call me that,” she hissed.
The use of her real name made her flinch, the scalpel slipping from her fingers. Her smile returned quickly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You don’t get to call me that,” she snapped.
“You’re better than this,” he pressed. “You’re a genius. You could save lives instead of ending them. You don’t have to follow Jack’s path.”
Her grip on the holographic map tightened, her knuckles white. “Stop it,” she hissed.
“Riley—”
“I said stop it!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “I will do it! Don’t think I won’t!”
Superman’s gaze didn’t waver. “If you do, there’s no going back.”
Bonesaw’s breathing was ragged, her carefully maintained facade crumbling. For the first time, she felt the weight of his words—not just the threat they carried, but the truth beneath them, clashing with the promise of family the Nine had given her.
And yet, she couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when Jack was counting on her.
Not when she’d already crossed so many lines.
