London Eye: 1 (Toxic City)(39)

“But I'm not Superior,” Rosemary said. Jack was surprised at the conviction in her voice.

“And why wouldn't you want to be?” Puppeteer asked. “You do something now you couldn't two years ago, doesn't that make you feel—”

“I'm still a human. Look at you! What was your real name? Paul? Derek? Now you call yourself Puppeteer, like some comic book hero?”

“I've moved on,” Puppeteer said.

“Well, this is intense,” Sparky whispered behind Jack. When Jack glanced around, Sparky and Jenna were standing close, Emily just in front of them.

“We'll be all right,” Jack said.

“So what are outsiders doing in the Toxic City?” Scryer asked.

“Come to find my parents,” Jack said, because it was true. He leaned forward, mouth working as if chewing on air, ready to tell these Superiors the rest of the reason they'd come here. But he swallowed the words and turned away. So long as she gets something true, he thought. Scryer was looking at him strangely, the smile now gone from her eyes. And she knows that…she knows her limits!

“Normals,” Puppeteer sneered. “Just…humans.”

“‘Just’?” Jack asked. So what's my mother? he thought. What's my father? He looked at Rosemary but she would not meet his eyes.

“You're hurt,” Rosemary said to the tall man.

“Someone shot me.”

“Who?” Sparky asked. Puppeteer looked at him as though surprised he could even talk.

“A Chopper patrol, earlier today. We were playing with them, and they opened fire. Perhaps they forgot to have their coffee this morning.”

“Is the bullet still inside?” Rosemary asked.

Puppeteer seemed uncertain about whether to even answer. Jack could see where this was heading; he could also sense the tall man's discomfort.

“Passed right through,” Scryer answered for him.

“I can heal it,” Rosemary said, but she made no move. Waiting for permission, Jack thought. It's like Us and Them. Or Us, Them, and The Others.

Puppeteer glanced down at his leg, trousers torn and shoe shining with fresh blood. He lifted his foot and turned it, wincing slightly as he put his weight on it once again. “Very well,” he said. “I'll let you.”

Rosemary knelt at Puppeteer's feet, and it was one of the strangest acts Jack had ever seen. The tall man turned away and stared through the tall, wide window. While Rosemary lifted the trouser leg and bunched it around his knee, exposing the wound so that she could work at it, the man sniffed, hummed to himself, and generally acted as though nothing was happening. His companion sat in one of the large sofas and called Gordon across to her, asking him questions in subdued tones. Jack could not hear what she said, but it was obvious by her continuing smile that the man was giving her the answers she sought. She kept glancing past the Irregular at Jack—none of the others, just him—and he felt the dreadful power of her gaze.

I'd tell her the truth if she just looked at me, he thought. He looked down at his shoes and thought about Lucy-Anne, crying and alone elsewhere in the hotel, or perhaps even out there, shouting her way through strange streets. He should be searching for her. But he knew they would not be allowed to leave.

“What will they do to us?” Emily whispered. She stepped closer to Jack, and he felt the cool angles of her camera against his leg.

“Nothing,” he said. But he could not be certain of that at all. The Superiors pretended not to hear, but he was sure they had.

Rosemary knelt very still, apart from her fingers moving across and through the pouting wound. Jack could not see her face, but he had seen her doing this enough times before to know that it would be blank, cool, and in control. The man's hands hung by his sides, his fingers relaxed. Whatever powers he had were dormant, for now. But Jack could remember that alien sensation of his muscles twitching under someone else's command. Puppeteer, he called himself, and he thought himself Superior. Perhaps soon they would witness the full range of his abilities.

Jack glanced down again and realised that Emily was filming. The shock was cut through with respect for his sister. Clever girl! He looked up again, glancing from one Superior to the other, but he was certain she had not been seen.

He, his sister, and their friends had remained standing, frozen there by the Superiors’ strange presence and the power they seemed to exude. But Jack realised that a lot of that effect was produced by their own sudden fears of what the Superiors would be, and what they would look like. It was a name Rosemary had never mentioned, something else she had kept from them, and they could not help letting fear run their imaginations into overdrive. Now, here were the Superiors: strong, aloof, but still very human. Whatever Doomsday had done to their minds and bodies, their humanity was still beyond doubt.