There was nothing discernable at first. He knew Second Wind was home, as he could hear the sounds of his soft snoring. Close to an hour passed before he saw Tapestry’s black BMW pull up in front of the apartment.
He watched as she walked up to the apartment and tried the locked door handle. She knocked until Second Wind opened the door, and then stepped inside.
Part of Malcolm was shamefully curious of how his copy behaved around Tapestry when the two of them were on their own. Especially after Malcolm’s brief foray back into his old life. He held his breath and listened to their conversation.
“You look terrible,” said Tapestry. “Not feeling much better, I take it?”
“No, I’m fine,” said Second Wind. “Or as they said back in your day, I’m fit as a fiddle.”
Malcolm heard the sound of Tapestry’s fist impacting against shoulder muscle. It wasn’t a light tap, either.
“Seriously,” said Tapestry. “This might be the only chance we get. You need to be focused, Wind Runner.”
“We have to move today, whether I am or not,” said Second Wind. “It doesn’t seem like he’s planning on staying in that old factory for long.”
Old factory? So Multi set up shop in the abandoned industrial park. Why does that place seem like a hotbed for monster activity?
“You’re right,” said Tapestry. “But we still have to be careful. We’ll move in slow, and scout it out as we go. That’s the only way we can pull this off.”
Malcolm took a breath and felt an airborne dandelion tuft sneak into his throat. He coughed. Across the street in the apartment, he heard Second Wind draw in his own breath quickly.
“What is it?” asked Tapestry. “What’s wrong?”
He felt his hopes of going unseen blow away with the wind. He’d been stupid enough to forget that anything he could do, Second Wind could do just as well. Of course he’d be using the wind to listen. After the last words they’d shared the night before, he’d have to assume that Malcolm would try to crash their party.
Second Wind left the apartment through the open window. He soared across the street, toward the park. Malcolm made no move to run or hide as his copy landed in front of him, both of Second Wind’s hands clasped into fists.
The two of them squared off against each other, adopting identical fighting stances. Malcolm didn’t see anger in his copy’s expression, just a cold determination to follow through with his warning.
The only important difference between the two of them, in the context of a fight, was their abilities. They each had wind manipulation, which canceled out any advantage it might give. Malcolm still had Chaste Widow’s death kiss power. Second Wind most likely had Tapestry’s regeneration.
Neither power would lend itself to a fight like this. This was a fight not to kill, but to make the other submit. They knew each other too intimately, like two brothers, but even closer. The goal for both of them was to dominate, or at least defeat, rather than destroy.
Malcolm felt he owed it to his copy to make the first move. He feinted forward with a punch, spinning and speeding himself with the wind for a spinning kick in the wake of it. Second Wind dodged, dropping low and coming up for an upper cut.
Malcolm leaned back far enough for it to miss and immediately shielded over his head, knowing Second Wind would reverse it for a downward strike. He countered with a quick jab to Second Wind’s stomach, which he traded for a kick to the thigh muscle.
Why does it have to be like this? Why can’t we both just get along?
If Second Wind was having similar thoughts, he didn’t let it show in his eyes. He darted forward, gearing up to throw one of the wild, hard punches that Malcolm so often relied on when fighting unskilled opponents.
Malcolm reacted to what his copy was about to do on instinct, but moved a second too late. The punch was a feint. Instead of carrying it all the way forward, Second Wind spun into his guard and through his forehead into Malcolm’s face. It was a cheap and vicious attack, and Malcolm had probably only been a few seconds away from trying it himself.
He stumbled backward. Second Wind pressed forward with his advantage, pummeling Malcolm’s abdomen. Malcolm kept his guard up, desperate to protect his head. Tapestry had finally found them, and she let out a furious shout. He wasn’t sure who she’d meant it for.
Second Wind kneed Malcolm hard in the stomach. He groaned and fell forward, deciding that it was time to play the card he’d hoped to keep in his deck. He slipped a hand into the back of his waist band and pulled out Brenden’s taser, tagging Second Wind in the shoulder with it before his copy had time to react.
It was as though Malcolm had flipped a switch and turned his copy off. He wondered if he would have done such a thing, had it been a real and simple possibility. Second Wind crumpled to the ground, legs twitching slightly. Malcolm heard Tapestry shout something else. He glanced over and saw that she had her gun trained on him. With his mask still on, all she saw when she looked at him was the vigilante.
“Leave him alone!” she shouted. “I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t care. We’re past that point.”
“No.” Second Wind spoke before Malcolm could. “No… It’s over. Put the gun down, Tapestry. He wins.”
Malcolm stared at Second Wind. His copy had surprised him so many times in the past few days that he couldn’t help but wonder if the process was as seamless as Multi and his duplicates had made it appear. He had no idea what was going on in Second Wind’s mind, and given how familiar of a face the man wore, it scared the hell out of him.
“You win,” said Second Wind. “It’s yours. You can have it. I’m done.”
He slowly stood to his feet, and then leapt into the air. Malcolm crouched, ready to jump into flight to follow him. Tapestry cocked her pistol.
“Don’t move!” she shouted. “I swear to god, I will shoot you.”
It wasn’t an empty threat, and he didn’t take it as one. Malcolm stood where he was, watching Second Wind’s figure disappear into the clouds. What was his copy thinking? Was this really the end of their partnership? What did that mean for Malcolm, and for Vanderbrook?
It’s too soon to think about that. Better to focus on immediate problems.
“What did he mean by that?” snapped Tapestry. “Tell me! Explain everything, including why two of you seemed to know each other.”
“It’s complicated,” said Malcolm, gruffly. “We’re… friends, of a sort.”
Tapestry didn’t look like she believed him, and he didn’t blame her.
“Where did he go?” asked Tapestry. “And why… what did you do?”
“That’s a really good question.” Malcolm sighed. “But I don’t think I have an answer that would make sense to you. Now, are you going to shoot me? Or are we just going to stand here all day?”
Tapestry glared at him.
“You’re a renegade,” she said. “It would be simpler to shoot you, and be done with it.”
Malcolm leapt into the air. Tapestry didn’t fire.
CHAPTER 28
Malcolm didn’t go far, only disappearing out of Tapestry’s sight before doubling back to watch the apartment. He was almost tempted to ditch his mask, change his clothes, and attempt to sub in for Second Wind, right then and there. But there were too many continuity issues, enough that Tapestry would know that something was off.
Besides… I don’t know what Second Wind is planning. He might cool down and come back soon.
Even as the thought entered Malcolm’s awareness, he knew it wasn’t the case. Somewhere, a line had been crossed, and he was pretty sure it was his doing. He doubted that there was any coming back from what had just happened, not after how serious a warning Second Wind had issued the night before.