The Rhino growled, and for some reason it was a much more threatening sound in Aunt May's kitchen than in Times Square.
"The point is," I said quickly, "they didn't exactly give you any backup. And when you inconvenienced Mortia, she decided to kill you."
The Rhino was silent for a second, and then he said, 'You stopped her?"
'Yeah."
"Why?" he demanded.
"Despite what you may have read in the
Bugle,
I am one of the good guys. I don't let people get eaten on my watch."
"But I am your enemy," he said.
"Sorta, sure," I agreed. "But Mortia and her brothers are bad news in a big and scary way. You and I have had our disagreements. I imagine we'll keep on having them. But if they get the chance, those three will kill us. Both of us. And they'll barely remember it a few days from now."
His mouth spread into a sneer. "And what do you want? For me to fight beside you?"
"No," I said. "I want you gone. Out of here, somewhere safe. This is going to be nasty, and no one sane is going to want any part of it. Get yourself clear until you have a chance to recover. I think they're coming after me first, but if they get past me, you'll be on your own."
"Da. Am always on my own," the Rhino said, a glower in his tone. "But what do you really want?"
"Nothing. I pulled your big gray butt out of the fire because you once did something similar for me. I just want you to get up and get away from me as fast as you can manage it. The way I see it, that'll balance the scales between us."
His voice became even more suspicious. "This is some trick."
"No trick," I said.
"Prove it," he said. "Untie me."
I haven't spent all this time as a human spider without learning to tie some outstandingly groovy knots. I leaned down, gave the webbing around him several sharp tugs, and the whole thing slithered away from him.
The Rhino sat up slowly, a little unsteadily, as if shocked that I had actually untied him. "Now, the blindfold."
"Uh?" I said. "There's no blindfold, big guy. I mean, it's a little dim in here, but…"
I saw him lift his fingers to his face. He drew his hands away after a single touch, and spat out something in Russian that probably should not be said in front of Russian children.
I turned and flicked on the kitchen lights.
The Rhino's ruined face looked awful, but not as bad as his eyes. They had gone entirely white, as if cataracts had entirely occluded them in the few seconds Mortia had touched him.
Holy Moley. This put a nice big old hole in the "get everyone away from Peter so he can fight the battle without them getting hurt or in the way" plan. There was no way I could send him out on his own like this—helpless, utterly unable to defend himself.
"Bozhe moi."
the Rhino said, staring sightlessly. "I am blind."
Chapter 17
The Rhino sat on the kitchen floor munching microwave popcorn while I tried to figure out what would go wrong next. He went through the bag fast, though he didn't seem to hurry, and asked, "Is there perhaps water?"
The simple question startled me. I mean, of all the people I'd ever have thought I'd be talking to in Aunt May's kitchen, the Rhino was about third to last on the list. And the question was just so… normal. He ate popcorn. It made him thirsty. The Rhino was pretty much supposed to be all about bellowing and smashing—not being beaten, blind, and conversational.
I got him a glass of water and said, "Hold out your hand."
He did. I put the glass in it. He gave me a grave nod, making the silly rhino horn bob, and said, "Thank you."
The Rhino. Saying thank you. Excuse me while I boggle.
At this rate, I was going to have to reboot my brain before it locked up entirely and went into meltdown. A thought struck me. The Rhino was blind. There was no reason I had to keep wearing the mask.
I took it off and stared at it for a minute. It was just a piece of cloth, but it had done more to protect me—and the people I cared about—than any number of locks or security systems over the years. I'd thrown it away several times. I'd always picked it up again. Looking at it now, it just seemed a little worn and in need of a manage a trois with a washer and a sewing machine.
I looked at the Rhino. I could count the number of times I'd seen him without looking through the mask on the fingers of one hand—and never from this close, this clearly. He finished the water and set the glass carefully to one side. I had half-assumed he would smash it in his fist when finished. Perhaps follow that by chewing up the pieces and swallowing. It was the sort of recreational activity I had expected from him:
I am the Rhino. My favorite movie is
Rocky IV
and my turn-ons include exotic haberdashery and rubble.
"I assume," he said instead, "that we are in your secret headquarters."
"Secret headquarters," I said.
"Da," he said. "The armory and lab where you design your weaponry. The bulletproof, stealth-technology super costumes. All the equipment you have used over the years. The cloaking technology that hides all of it."
I nearly burst out into a laugh, but kept it from happening. "Ah. That headquarters."
"Mysterio once said it was the only way you could counter his illusion technology so completely. With access to advanced equipment for the design of countermeasures, like that of Mister Fantastic."
"Mysterio thinks a whole lot of himself," I said.
The Rhino snorted. "Da."
Wait.
I had just agreed with the Rhino on something.
I wondered if my brain would explode out of my ears or just sort of flow out of my nostrils in steaming gobs.
"I presume," the Rhino said, "your security measures are monitoring me."
Why not?
"Every single one," I said. "I'd prefer it if you didn't give me a reason to use them."
At that, he tensed a little, and his jaw clenched. "You think you can frighten me?"
"No," I replied. Normally I would have added something like:
You're obviously too stupid to be afraid of anything.
It would have been funny, but maybe not entirely accurate. Whatever else his faults, the Rhino was tough-minded, and no coward.
Besides. I didn't need to be a telepath to realize that he was scared. Who wouldn't be, in his position, blinded and captured by a bitter foe? But all I
said was: "You've never had a problem with fear. There wouldn't be any point to trying to scare you now."
He grunted. We were both guys, so to me, the grunt sounded like,
Good, because I'm willing to fight you, blind and helpless and doomed, rather than let you think you frighten me.
It was the kind of grunt I might have used myself, were things reversed. "I am ready to go," he said. "What?" I asked.
"Go," he said, tensing again. "You said you intended to set me free. Do you mean to go back on your word?"
"No," I said, tiredly. "But that was before I knew about your eyes."
The Rhino shifted his weight warily. More dishes rattled. "You did this to me?"
"No, bonehead," I replied, mildly annoyed. "But I'm not going to send you out there blind. God only knows what you might blunder into and smash." I shook my head, my voice trailing off. "Besides. When the Ancients came for you, you wouldn't have a prayer."
"Then I am your prisoner?" he asked. "No. You're free to go." I paused for a second. If I just put my teeth together and kept them that way, the Rhino would be out of my hair. It would be simple, practical, and easy.
Who am I kidding? I've never really been all that good at simple, practical, easy things. Things like baking frozen pizzas and abandoning enemies to their gruesome fate.
"You don't have to leave," I said. "If you need some more time to get back on your feet, you can stay." I paused. "So long as you give me your word that you and I have a cease-fire until Mortia and company are dealt with."