Full Metal Superhero Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Haskell, Jeffery H.

  “You can ask. I won’t promise I’ll answer.”

  Domino shoots me a raised eyebrow. She must have noticed my PA system is back on. She’s more than a pretty face. I’ll have to remember that.

  Matahal was next. The man freaked me out. His eyes were cold as he stared at me. He didn’t blink or smile. As far as I could tell he didn’t have one emotional reaction to anything. Other than to sneer a little when he touched the armor.

  “What is the coating you use on the outside? It seems to be resistant to standard wavelengths?” Carver asked.

  “I designed it that way on purpose. Technology in the wrong hands can be dangerous, don’t you think? What do you use to power this base?” I did some quick mental math. “What produces one point six trillion BTU’s a day?”

  That got a reaction out of Matahal.

  “You can’t possibly know that. You just pulled that number out of your—” he growled. Kate smirked like I said something funny. Maybe she liked the guy as little as I do.

  “Like I care if you believe me. I’m right though,” I say.

  “1.7, you are very precise. Would I be correct in saying you designed and built your exo-suit?” Carver asked.

  Uh-oh, I guess I already committed to this.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Both the scientists look at each other and they argue without speaking. Finally, Matahal nods to Kate and leaves without a word. Carver turns the tablet he’s holding around in his hand a few times before wiping his forehead.

  “I have to apologize for my associate, he’s not used to—”

  “—Being civil?” I fill in for him.

  “Quite. Can I ask, how is it you can run your exo-suit and generate as little heat as you do? Thermal imaging puts you at a degree under body temperature.”

  “Is it Doctor Carver?” I ask.

  He nods eagerly.

  “Okay, let’s tit for tat. You show me the power generators here and I will answer any one question you have about my suit.” I don’t think they will go for it. I’m sure they have tech more advanced than mine. Heck, for all I know they can teleport me out of my suit anytime they want. Of course, it would require a sensor lock… and how did they do it in the elevator? Some form of ‘always on’ field?

  “I don’t think we’re authorized to do that—” Kate starts to say.

  “—Nonsense, this is just as much my base as yours. I have the clearance, I will authorize it,” Carver says. Kate raises an eyebrow at him and shakes her head.

  “Alright, Doc.” Then to me, “Arsenal, I will leave you in his capable hands. When you’re done have him page me and meet me by the elevator. Enjoy the show.”

  After she is gone, Doctor Carver practically leaps with excitement as he leads me to the power room. I can hear him mumbling under his breath what he should ask me. Poor guy, I bet he doesn’t see tech he doesn’t understand very often. To be honest, I know how he’s feeling. Quantum Teleportation? Who has that?

  The room he brings me into looks like an interrogation chamber from a police drama.

  “We can’t actually enter the room the zero-point field is in, but you can see it from here.” He reaches over and pushes a button. I’m reeling from his revelation. Zero-Point field? Quantum mechanics isn’t even close to understanding—

  The light comes on in the other room. Floating in the center is a canister of shiny metal with LED lights on the side. It glows slightly and my passive sensors tell me this is the source of the mysterious radiation. I open my mouth to speak but I can’t find the words. Zero-point… it’s no bigger than a car battery and it powers this base? I put my hand to the glass to feel if there is any heat. Passive picks up… room temp. As far as I can tell the other room is completely survivable.

  “Our bargain?” He asks suddenly.

  “I can’t believe you have this, I mean I see it, but… still working on believing it.” Then I realize he was looking at me expectantly.

  “Right, sorry doc, you could have shown me an alien and I would be less stunned. Go ahead.”

  He wipes his brow and I can tell he’s eager. “What is it made of?”

  It really is the only question he could ask. Everything else is easily guessable. However, this is my baby. I smile. At least I know he will appreciate the response.

  “I found a way to bond tungsten carbide to titanium molecules.”

  Now it’s his turn to be stunned.

  “H—how?” he stammers out.

  “Trade secret. I can’t have an army of these running around,” I say.

  Like I would tell him anyway. I spent half my life building this thing to find the truth of what happened to my parents. What these people did to my parents. I’m not going to give up my one advantage.

  “I guess you wouldn’t. Still, bonding titanium… are you a metallurgist?”

  “I’m a lot of things. One of them is protective of my identity. There aren’t a lot of metallurgists with PhDs in the world. I answer your question and it won’t be hard to find out who I am.”

  He nods. It’s not like they aren’t going to know soon enough. I have to join if I want to find out the truth. I glance back at the ZPF in the other room. I know what is on my Christmas list.

  8

  It’s been two weeks and I haven’t given them my answer. Domino offered me probationary membership. It’s a big deal as they have no probate members at the moment. I would be the only one. Considering they have two empty slots to fill, I would be a fully-fledged member in no time.

  That’s the problem. I’m still not sure I’m ready to tell them who I am. It never occurred to me Cat-7 would be as involved as they are. If I join, I will have unfettered access. It shouldn’t take Epic and I long to find them. On the flip side, they will know who I am. They’ll know I’m the daughter of John and Hope Lockheart. I’m stalling in the hope of finding a way to fix this… well, that and I wanted more time to come up with the answer to the zero-point equation.

  I wheel over to the glass I use as a chalkboard to take my mind off this. It is low enough I can reach it top to bottom without much effort. I’ve tried these calculations seven ways from Sunday; none of them work. This may be the first time in my life I haven’t been smart enough. There is simply no way to make a stable zero-point field. None.

  “Whatcha working on?” Carlos asks from the window. He crawls through and flops down on my bean bag.

  “No, by all means, come in, you’re not interrupting anything.”

  My sarcasm flies right by him. He reaches over and opens my little fridge and pulls out a soda.

  “I’m trying to find a way to stabilize a quantum field so energy is both infinite and finite in a given space, at the same time. I don’t think it can be done. I know it can be done. I just don’t know how.”

  “Infinite energy. That would power the hell out of your suit.”

  He takes a long pull from the Coke. Now I’m thirsty. I wheel over to the fridge and grab one of my own. Caffeine helps me think.

  “Yep. Pretty much.”

  I need it too. I added a particle beam to my ever-expanding lineup. Only on my right forearm. It will cut through hardened steel. I consider it extremely lethal. A last ditch for a super out of control, or if I have to cut something away in a hurry. The problem is I have to shunt all power to it. No kinetic shields, no IP cannons, nothing. Not only will it take all the energy I can produce, it will sap my batteries. I estimate a thirty-second recharge cycle. If I use it, I better make damn sure it’s the last thing I need.

  “You going to join them?” he asks as he takes another long drink.

  I heave a sigh, I have to, I don’t want to. I like Domino; of course I think everyone likes her. “Once they know who I am it won’t take them long to figure out whose daughter I am. They took my parents. They’re going to suspect something.”

  “I’ve never asked, niña, but… you were six? Are you sure it was them? What if everyone was telling the truth, as painful as it sounds. Mira, it doesn�
�t seem likely everyone, including your family, would lie to you, does it?”

  I’ve been over that moment in my head a million times. I know the psychological effects of reliving a trauma and how an incorrect memory can seem real. Even more so than an actual memory. Am I crazy? Did I imagine what happened?

  I look down at my hands. I remember. I remember him taking them and looking me in the eye and telling me I would be okay. It wasn’t a dream, I wasn’t unconscious, it happened.

  “It happened, Carlos, I know it did,” I say finally.

  “Too bad you’re not Carlos Rodrigo Dominguez. I think every Hispanic from here to Columbia is named Carlos or Rodrigo. Can you fake your identity?”

  It’s a thought. One I’ve given a lot of weight too. However, Epic says it won’t work. I shake my head, “According to Epic, it won’t hold out for anything past state level. There are sealed databases even he can’t get access to. Once I sign they will run background checks and it will reveal the truth. Better to go in as me and be ready.”

  I wheel back over to the suit. I’ve poured my heart into it. I run my hands along the rough exterior. The only smooth portion is the quarter moon shaped faceplate. I could have made the whole thing smooth and shiny, but it didn’t seem like it would look right. I’m glad I didn’t. The shades of red and white really give it a versatile look. Not too dark, not too light. I grin. Okay, it is badass looking.

  “You admire that thing too much, niña.”

  “You could be right. Well, I’m not going to accomplish anything more tonight. Stay for a movie?”

  He smiles, “Why do you think I came? Your TV is way better than mine.”

  It’s a good movie, sci-fi, one of my favorites. Star Trek never gets old. I can’t focus on it though. My mind wonders back to the ZPF equation. Without something more, I don’t see how it could work. Obviously, their understanding of Quantum mechanics is greater than mine. At the same time, it can’t be. It’s a finite field of study. There is only so much to learn and once you have it all, the only place to learn more would be at a place like Cern, with a particle accelerator. I’ve read every book, every paper. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought of zero-point energy.

  They did it. Somehow it is possible. If it’s possible for them, by golly it’s possible for me.

  9

  Phoenix isn’t exactly a bastion of super-powered criminals. Patrols are four-hour shifts taken twice a day. As a probationary member, I must be followed by a full-time member at all times. I accepted a week ago and after the forms I had to fill out relieving them of obligation if I die, and the training videos, I was allowed out on patrol. On today’s patrol it’s Mr. Perfect.

  He’s a nice enough guy but he talks almost nonstop. Ask him one simple question about his energy constructs and he won’t shut up about his magic. As if he isn’t another creation of the Wardenclyffe incident. Yet, somehow, he is among a group who claim they aren’t. They’re special; they can do magic. They’re special alright, just the kind you treat with medication.

  “When I twist my hand this way and say Ectal-muhabeny it gets really interesting.”

  He stops long enough to take a bite of his hot dog. This feels surreal to me. We’re standing downtown surrounded by skyscrapers and he’s sitting on his hover-bike, eating a hot dog while I stand against the wall with my arms crossed. His costume is nothing more than an elaborate tux and a red cape. He carries a top hat and a magician’s cane with him. As ridiculous as he is, I do notice he isn’t sweating. Interesting.

  People stop by every few minutes to have their picture taken with Mr. Perfect. Cars honk their horns at the magical man and drivers wave. A few look at me but I haven’t made the news yet; they don’t even know my name. As he smiles for another shot I can’t help but wonder if he named himself.

  “Perfect, Arsenal, we have a possible sighting of Vixen downtown. Your cell will have the exact coordinates,” central chimes over the radio. Mr. Perfect has an earpiece. I tuned in one of my receivers to the right frequency. A red pip popped up on my HUD. Epic creates a least time route for me instantly. Mr. Perfect acknowledges the call, takes one more picture with a very pretty Japanese woman and then hops on his bike. He blasts off on the anti-gravity tech they use for the members who can’t fly. I put my arms straight down with my palms at a forty-five-degree angle and light off my thrusters.

  “Epic, let’s shunt power to the Kinetic fields. I don’t want any surprises.”

  Affirmative.

  The lights on my cannons, life support, and every other non-critical system dim. It means I have to wait a few seconds to charge my IP cannons, but it also gave me 100% shielding.

  It might be overkill and as far as I know her crew was still in lockup. As far as I know.

  “Federal Marshals have been notified and have their own agent en route, call sign Bricklayer.”

  Epic pops up a small window with his stats. Typical Fed, all strength and invulnerability.

  Mr. Perfect acknowledges them while I focus on flying. We didn’t have far to go. I throw my hands out in front of me to counter my thrust and set the armor down next to a row of tables sitting under the kind of mist sprayer everyone uses to stay cool outside.

  I light up my whole sensor suite. The canyon-like walls of the city limit the range I can ‘see,’ but if she’s near, I’ll have her.

  “Epic, tap into local traffic cams and see if you can’t spot her.”

  He pings acknowledgment on my screen. Hacking isn’t easy for him; it increases the chance of being detected. However, a good first patrol wouldn’t go unnoticed. Also, I wouldn’t mind having a killer like Vixen off the street. The quicker I can get on the main team—

  A piece of lead a half inch wide and almost two inches long blasts through my kinetic shields and hits me square in the faceplate. My head snaps back and I’m seeing stars as I stumble backward. Pain blossoms in my stomach and I feel like I’ve been punched. I scramble back trying to find something to cover myself. My kinetic shields are offline, and my HUD is blinking in and out of existence. The area around me glows with a pink hue. I blink away the stars and I see Mr. Perfect standing over me, waving his hands in complicated patterns forming a shield.

  “What the hell was that?” he asks.

  I don’t know. My HUD reboots and Epic is back in full control. There is a scratch on my faceplate. Un-freaking-believable.

  “Can your shield stop a fifty-caliber sniper rifle firing tungsten penetrators?” I ask him.

  This is the round Epic is showing me in detail on my HUD. It is freaking huge.

  “Hell no. It can keep them from seeing you. Whoever is firing that kind of ordinance isn’t likely to blind fire.”

  I nod. No, not likely.

  “Epic, do you have a twenty on the shooter?”

  Affirmative. Two miles due east, on the roof of the Park building.

  “He’s two miles to the East. Holy hell! Who could make a shot like that?” I ask Mr. Perfect. He shrugs.

  “Okay, hold the shield, my batteries are recharged. I’m going to take off and hit him. You follow as quickly as you can.” He opens his mouth to argue but stops himself. I can imagine he doesn’t want to get hit by one of those rounds.

  I nod and hold up my hand, three, two one. Thrusters blow the debris and dirt from around me as I shoot up into the air through the glass of the outdoor cafe. I hope the Diamondbacks insurance covers that. I don’t want to have to write a check for it.

  “Epic, show me the math.”

  A string of calculations flash to life in front of my eyes. Whoever made this shot is either the best shooter in the world or someone with super-powered help. I divert all power to the kinetic shielding. No doubt the only reason I’m still alive is because I had full power to them when I landed. Tungsten penetrators? Why would the shooter load armor piercing rounds?

  The roof appears from behind the last building and I can see him; he’s dressed all in black, with a ninja mask and a hulking sniper rifle
shouldered. The barrel alone has to be three feet long. He brings it up to bear on me. I don’t want to risk another hit. I swerve hard as fire leaps out of the barrel. I don’t have time to aim; I eyeball with my kinetic lance and fire. The concrete roof in front of him explodes. He flies through the air to land on his back ten feet away. The rifle rolls from his hands to clatter against the pebbled roof.

  “Charge IP Cannons, fifty percent.”

  They light up green as the man jumps to his feet. He draws two pistols so fast it was like I didn’t see him move. Each one spits out twenty rounds. The shield absorbs all their energy and the bullets drop harmlessly to the ground.

  “Who are you?” I demand in my synthesized voice.

  “Help me, please,” he replies. Help him? He’s trying to kill me. He drops his pistol and pulls out a grenade. It might cause collateral damage but—he runs straight at me.

  My thrusters flare to life and I’m airborne.

  “Epic, why did you—”

  Below me the man screams as the grenade bursts to life. It isn’t explosive, it’s thermite. A fountain of white fire burns into the air like a kid’s firework. The grenade engulfs him in orange flame. His screams of agony fade as the chunk of charred meat that used to be a human being falls to the rooftop.

  I guide myself to land. My heart thumps in my chest and my stomach feels like it’s in trouble.

  “Open faceplate,” I gurgle. It opens a second before I spew vomit on the roof. I drop to my knees and heave again. I try not to look at the puddle of molten metal and flesh that used to be a man. That could have been me. Titanium melts at three thousand degrees. Thermite burns at four thousand. I vomit one more time, the last of my breakfast coming up. I can’t stop the shaking as I roll over onto my back to look at the sky. The faceplate slides shut a few seconds before I hear the whine of Mr. Perfect’s hoverbike.

  “Holy shi—what did you do?”

  Between the tungsten rounds and the thermite, this sure feels like it was directed at me.