Rose flicked his ear with her finger.
“And I don’t trust you flying through the sky,” she said. “I’m just glad that you still have that thing on your wrist to keep you from getting too overwhelmed by the body load.”
She eyed the metal stabilizer on wrist. Malcolm smiled.
“A remnant of my old life,” he said. “One of the few upsides to the Champion Authority being in such disarray is that I don’t have to worry about them tracking me using it. Or, you know… triggering the bomb inside of it.”
“For now,” said Rose.
“For now,” he agreed.
She smiled at him as she stood up. Malcolm watched her wiggling back into her leggings and pulling on her halter top. She waited for a couple of seconds when she finished, looking at him expectantly.
“So…” she said. “Are you going to be around tomorrow night, or am I going to have to track you through the city again?”
Malcolm shrugged.
“I’m not living the kind of life right now where I think that far ahead,” he said.
Rose folded her arms and glared at him.
“You’d better not do anything stupid,” she said. “And yes, going after Multi on your own qualifies as stupid.”
“No promises,” said Malcolm.
Rose’s glare deepened, until it was so exaggerated that it was funny.
“I’ll be careful,” he added. “And… hopefully see you soon.”
“Of course,” said Rose.
She leaned over him and kissed him once more on the lips before climbing up the ladder and out of Malcolm’s hideout. He put the lock back in place, sighed, and collapsed onto his bed.
He woke up the next morning to the sound of his prepaid phone vibrating from a text. Malcolm groggily peered into the screen. It was Second Wind.
SECOND WIND: Just woke up. I’ll be at the spot in 10.
Malcolm sighed and started getting dressed. He’d been forced to diversify his wardrobe since creating his new identity. He pulled on khakis, along with a short sleeve dress shirt, a pair of reading glasses, and a baseball cap. It wouldn’t be enough to fool anyone who knew him and spent more than a couple of seconds looking at him, but that was why he limited the amount of time he spent in public.
He waited at the bus stop, playing the role of another bored pedestrian as he traveled across town, toward his old apartment. “The spot” that Second Wind had mentioned was the old park across the street from it. It wasn’t exactly the most subtle of places to hold what amounted to a meeting with an informant, but they could both get to it easily, and it kept Second Wind from having to explain unusual trips around town to anyone paying attention to him.
Malcolm spotted his copy sitting on a park bench near the small duck pond with a pensive look on his face. He walked over slowly, taking out his phone as though it was what held his attention as he sat down.
“How’s your shoulder?” asked Second Wind.
Malcolm shrugged. It wasn’t overly itchy, which was a good sign, and he was thankful for the attention Rose had given it, but it was still painful.
“Feels like that time Mr. Tessmore’s dog bit us when we cut across his yard,” said Malcolm.
“Jesus,” said Second Wind. “You could have just said that it was still hurting. No need to trudge up that memory.”
Malcolm smiled.
“The rest of that day was pretty good though, remember?”
Second Wind nodded.
“I do,” he said. “It was the summer, and we were at the beach for the morning. Me, Danny, and mom.”
Neither of them said anything for a minute. Danny’s death, though it had been something he’d essentially gone through twice before, still weighed heavily on Malcolm. He looked down at his palm and considered the last gift his brother had given him, a superpower that he was now using to protect the city.
“Any news on Multi?” asked Malcolm.
Second Wind shook his head slowly.
“No,” he said. “At least, nothing new. None of my contacts or Tapestry’s contacts have seen him in person recently, and we don’t know for sure where he’s going to hit next. People are scared. I don’t know if you sense that much or not, but it’s truth. The entire city is terrified of him. If he starts making demands…”
“That’s why we need to find him, and stop him,” said Malcolm. “Not his copies. Him.”
Malcolm massaged his temples, only realizing after a second or two the error in what he’d just said.
“Right,” said Second Wind. “Multi’s infinite army of unthinking, evil copies.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” said Malcolm. “Look, the one thing that each of the copies can’t do is replicate. The only way to kill a snake is to cut off its head.”
Malcolm bit his lip, realizing that the words didn’t sound much better. Second Wind frowned slightly and leaned back in the seat, his eyes staring out across the duck pond without focusing.
“It’s hard for me not to think about, you know,” he said. “For the first few hours, even the first day or two after I was… created, I didn’t really consider it. It just felt like a hazy dream. I remembered making the copy, making myself, I guess. It felt like one of those science fiction movies where the protagonist wakes up and discovers that the world… isn’t what it seems.”
“Hey…” Malcolm reached over and set a hand on his copy’s shoulder. “Don’t be sad. How about I buy you an ice cream, slugger? Vanilla? Chocolate?”
“Fuck you.” Second Wind scowled, but there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes. “I’m being serious. I inherited everything from you. Your thoughts, your feelings, memories, sense of humor. Everything… except a clear sense of purpose.”
Whoa. This is affecting him more than I’d assumed.
“I think this might be one of those things that gets worse the more you think about it,” said Malcolm. “So just… try not to think about it.”
“It doesn’t make you feel existential to know that there is someone else out there in the world who could, technically, claim to be you?” asked Second Wind.
‘First of all, you’re not me.” Malcolm spoke the words without thinking. “I mean, damn it. You are me, but you aren’t… me. We’re different people now, really.”
Malcolm frowned, feeling annoyed at how hard it suddenly was to articulate the essence of their existence.
“You haven’t thought about it much, have you?” asked Second Wind.
“No,” said Malcolm. There was no point in trying to lie. He knew Second Wind would see through it.
“And that’s another part of this, for me,” said Second Wind. “I don’t even know… how much I don’t know.”
“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous,” said Malcolm. “Of course you don’t know what you don’t know.”
“Just, shut up and let me explain!” snapped Second Wind. “I’m talking about memories. MY emotional reactions. My… soul, if I have one. How much of it is really true to what I was… what you were… before you used Multi’s power.”
Malcolm hesitated, lacking the slightest idea how to respond.
“I’ve taken on the role of tending to your life,” said Second Wind. “Do you know how that feels, when the news is full of reports of the ‘Gifted Vigilante’? Hell, even Tapestry speculates about you and your motives.”
“This wasn’t how I’d planned this,” said Malcolm. “I didn’t expect to survive my encounter with Rain Dancer.”
“But you did,” said Second Wind. “And now I’m doing the doppelgänger version of watering your plants and walking your dogs while you’re out of town.”
“I don’t have any plants or dogs,” said Malcolm.
The look Second Wind gave him told him that he’d just said the wrong thing, again.
“I feel like… I at least deserve a chance,” said Second Wind. “To make my own choices. To make my own way in the world, instead of walking down the path you were on for no other reason than to keep it warm.”