Full Metal Superhero Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Haskell, Jeffery H.

  I try to look innocent, which is easy while wearing my armor. I stifle a giggle. Maybe this is how I should do more work. I could use my own resources to hire us people to man the HQ. Right now, we have the front desk man. We could use a half dozen more people, not to mention some security. How is it the teams can have access to hi-tech equipment like the hoverbikes but not other things like security?

  There is an object approaching at high—

  Epic doesn’t get to finish. Fleet has arrived. He slides across the roof to stop in front of us, the air from his running catches up to him and blows past us like a sudden squall. Mr. Perfect puts his hands up to protect his face, Luke weathers it, and Kate simply turns her body so her hair blows behind her. I don’t have to do anything.

  Fleet’s costume or uniform, whatever you want to call it, is awesome. His top is armless, but it isn’t a tank, more like a workout shirt. It’s dark blue and outlined with light blue lightning bolts that run all the way down his pants to his shoes. His outfit is skin tight—I mean tight. You can see every detail of his musculature. I imagine it has to be since his friction field doesn’t extend much beyond him.

  Kate smiles at him as the wind dies down.

  “Welcome to Arizona, Mr. Shaw,” she says holding out her hand.

  He has very Asian features, his hair is buzz cut, and the sides have little lightning bolts cut into them. He isn’t much taller than me, which puts him even with the armor and an inch shorter than Kate.

  He smiles back at Kate and saunters over to shake her hand. I don’t know why but I expected him to use his speed.

  “It’s a pleasure,” his Boston accent is thick enough to notice.

  He goes through the team and then he gets to me.

  “Wow, I saw it on the news but this is something else.”

  I smile, even though he can’t see it through my mirrored faceplate.

  “Okay, you’ve met the team, why don’t you settle in and get some rest, we’ll go over the particulars tomorrow,” Luke says.

  Fleet shakes his head, “I don’t sleep. Side effect of my powers. I’m ready to rock now. I’ve been waiting for this moment for three years.”

  Epic flashes an alert on my HUD.

  There are several emergency calls at the airport. There is a man on fire attacking the planes as they take off. There may be more powered individuals but it is unclear.

  “Luk—Major,” I forget we’re supposed to use our code names when we’re in costume. Luke’s costume is a very tough looking green tiger striped vest with wide shoulder straps. On the center is the Marine Corps logo. Under it, he wears a black form-fitting long sleeve shirt. His pants are military style cargo pants with the same camo pattern as his chest piece. Boy does he love the Marines. We’re certainly a drab group. Mr. Perfect more than makes up for it with his red tuxedo and black cape and top hat.

  “Are you—” he’s interrupted by Central giving him the same report.

  “It looks like you are in for some action, Fleet. Follow my directions, don’t be hasty, and remember, protecting civilians and limiting property damage is always the priority.”

  “I’ve had the course. Tell me what you want to do and I will play it cool,” he replies.

  I like this guy more and more. I make a mental note to ask him what course he’s talking about.

  “Domino, can you port to him?” Major asks.

  “We just met—so no.”

  “She can port to me,” I tell him.

  “Fleet,” he continues ignoring me, “How long will it take you to get to the airport?” Major asks.

  The new guy slips a GPS out of his pocket and starts to type. He’s too slow for me, “Assuming three hundred is your max speed in a city, one minute thirty-one seconds. I can be there in thirty-five seconds.”

  Everyone on the roof turns to me. Kate’s mouth hangs open and Force’s jaw tightened.

  “I thought your max speed was two-hundred?” Mr. Perfect asks.

  “Upgrades.”

  Force nods, “Okay then, Fleet, go and see if you can help the civilians evacuate. Don’t engage the hostiles.”

  The Asian speedster nods and in a rush of wind he vanishes. I can see the dust trail heading southeast toward the airport. Damn that’s cool.

  “Arsenal, go find us a place to ‘port in. I would prefer someplace better than Las Vegas,” he finishes with a grin, letting me know he’s all cool.

  “Everyone’s a critic,” I mutter.

  With my synthesized voice it comes off a little louder than that. With my hands at my side, palms out, I engage my thrusters. The jets roar and I shoot up into the sky. In ten seconds I’m already going two-fifty. At this speed there isn’t any maneuvering. Fleet would have me beat in an obstacle course. I can, however, put myself on a ballistic trajectory. I holler as I pass four hundred miles per hour. The world screams by me. Five hundred miles an hour and Epic warns me the thrusters are reaching shutdown temperature.

  Dammit! What did I miss? I guess no sound barrier today. I ease back the throttle and let friction and gravity slow me down to three hundred. Okay, not the thirty seconds I promised, but fifty.

  I push my hands out in front of me and light off my stabilizers. My airspeed diminishes rapidly. Without my inertia field this would be a very different story. Namely, my funeral.

  The airport is a mess. A jet burns at the end of the main runway. I can’t tell if it ever took off or if it was sitting there. I hope there weren’t any people inside. It’s an inferno. Several fire trucks have been knocked over, along with some baggage carts.

  I land on the roof of the tower and scan the field. Epic flashes Fleet’s location at me. He can do better than three hundred. Must be because there is a lot of open ground in Phoenix. He’s twenty seconds out.

  “I’m here,” I say over the radio.

  “Bring up all our active sensors and let’s see if we can pinpoint these yahoos.”

  Epic complies and a stream of sensor data pours onto my HUD.

  “Epic, we need cameras too. This is too big a deal to not put all our cards on the table.”

  All it would take would be for these guys to bring down one loaded jumbo jet and it would be a disaster. I hear two rapid-fire pops and Force is next to me. He has his binoculars out, scanning. We’re on the team-only encrypted channel, which means I can speak freely.

  “Epic is going to try and get us cameras,” I tell him.

  “Who’s Epic?” Fleet asks as he runs through the tarmac and up the side of the tower to stop next to us.

  “A hacker we use on the side,” I lie.

  “Cool,” he says out loud.

  Another pop and Domino and Mr. Perfect arrive.

  The systems are encrypted by a Federal firewall. I can break them but I will be detected.

  “Epic’s having trouble. We’re going to have to find another way,” I tell them.

  Fleet, search the place but don’t engage,” Force tells him.

  He grins and vanishes with a puff of air.

  “Who do we know who can control fire enough to burn?” asks Domino.

  “Any ideas, Arsenal?” Force asks me.

  “I found them,” Fleet says, “and I mean them. Six powers. Fire guy, a big dude who looks like he jacked too many steroids, some cowboy, a hot chick with an energy sword, a guy who looks like a mummy, and a guy on a flying carpet.”

  “Fleet, return to me—”

  A blast of wind hits us and Fleet is here.

  “They look dangerous,” he says as he peels open an energy bar and starts eating.

  “Epic?”

  From the looks Domino and Force are giving each other I’m not sure I’m going to like the answer.

  The Psychotic Six. They’re listed as being in the North Dakota UltraMax. No news reports of them escaping have been filed. They are extremely dangerous. Lethal force would not be inappropriate.

  “It’s the Psychotic Six,” I inform them.

  “Force—” Domino says.
>
  “—I know. We’re outgunned here. Central,” he puts his hand to his ear. “Central?”

  “Epic are we being jammed?” I ask.

  No. The comm channel is open, no one is responding.

  “I’m getting a bad feeling of déjà vu,” I say.

  It’s like Las Vegas all over again. Who wants us to fail? And why? We should never have been sent to Las Vegas, and now the single most dangerous group of psychos to ever have powers just happens to show up in Phoenix? I can’t even do math that crazy.

  “We’re on our own… again,” Force says, “We can’t let them run free, they’re murdering psychopaths. If New York had the death penalty they wouldn’t even be alive after what they did.”

  “I’m more concerned about the here and now,” Domino adds. “One or two of them we could handle. But all six?”

  Force glances down at his feet. I can tell he’s at a loss for words. He’s great in a fight, something he can wrap his hands around, but problem solving and tactics aren’t his thing.

  “Epic, show me the opposition and go on comms.”

  His voice comes over our earpieces and it sounds awesome, I know the situation sucks but if Central is offline we need something to help us.

  “Bandit has a power set similar to Deadman, extremely high visual acuity. He is also inversely invulnerable to the force applied to him,” Epic says in his cool new voice.

  “Which means the harder you hit him, the less it hurts him. Great,” Domino mutters.

  “Blade,” Epic continues, “wields a sword made of plasma energy. It defies science and can cut through anything. Including you, Arsenal. Sandman is a sand elemental, a living sandstorm. Jadoo is similar in power to Mr. Perfect; he is a mage and can control matter.”

  “He’s nothing like me. My power comes through study and practice, he’s a fraud who sacrifices life to power his black magic.”

  I’ve never actually seen Perfect mad before. If the situation weren’t horrific I would smile.

  “Tire-Iron is invulnerable and an F5 strongman. Finally, there is Nova. He’s an F4 fire generator. His flames can melt most steel and reach as high as two-thousand degrees—”

  “—Thank God for small favors,” I say.

  “—He can also fly and project it like an explosion.”

  I don’t think any of us have anything witty to say after Epic’s rundown. Several F5’s, killers and psychopaths.

  “Okay, we go in hard and fast, hit them before they even know we’re there,” Force says slapping his hands together.

  I glance at Domino and her expression mirrors my own. It would be suicide to hit them head on.

  “Force,” I say with my synthesized voice, “Head-on may not be the way to go here. We haven’t exactly had time to work as a team. When we fight we all tend to pair-off and fight people one-on-one.”

  I can see his hackles are up. The man is ruggedly handsome, but when his powers kick in he’s brutish. Not his fault, I know, but it is weird to see the guy who’s sweet and nice to me sometimes, become a rage monster.

  I hold my hand up to forestall his complaints.

  “Listen, focus for a second. There are five of us and six of them. I can’t fight Blade and you can’t take Tire-Iron. Unless you can get angry enough to go F5?”

  He shakes his head; his lips are pursed hard together. I notice Domino has her hand on his arm, good girl.

  “Okay then, I think I have a plan, but you all are going to have to trust each other, and when Epic tells you to do something, do it without hesitation? Are we clear?”

  I can’t believe I’m speaking to these people who have all been doing this a lot longer than me, as if I know what I’m talking about.

  Domino takes her hand off Force’s arm and puts it out palm down. It seems a little hokey, but I’m in. I follow her lead. The rest follow me.

  “There are people down there who need our help. We save them, stop the bad guys, go home alive,” Domino says. “Now let’s kick their ass.”

  25

  The Psychotic Six have rounded up a hundred or so people and are holding them hostage in the baggage claim of terminal six. Any one of them could kill ten or fifteen hostages before we could stop them. The trick is to remove the hostages from the equation. The bad thing about baggage claim is the walls are almost all glass, with three sets of doors on either side leading to underground parking. There isn’t any way for us to approach without being spotted. The good thing about baggage claim is there are seven entrances they didn’t think to cover.

  Carousel Seven is on the far northwest corner and offers me an almost perfect view of the whole room. I’m using a detachable wi-fi cam I borrowed from one of the pieces of luggage and I put it right outside the rubber shields. I can see four of the psychos; the only ones I can’t see are Tire-Iron and Nova, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t sneaking up on me.

  One hundred and three hostages, twenty-six of which are under the age of eighteen.

  “Awesome,” I whisper in my helmet.

  I have no need to whisper, Epic is fantastic at knowing when I’m talking to him or people outside, but it feels like I should.

  “Force, twenty-six kids, they’re the priority,” I say over comms.

  “Why is it always save the kids, as if adults have nothing to live for,” Fleet breaks in.

  “Because,” I try to remember he’s the new guy and not sound angry with him, “Any parent would want you to save their kid before you saved them.”

  “Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

  “Kids first, Fleet. When you grab someone, does your inertia field immediately engulf them or do you have to stop for a minute?” I ask.

  “I’ve got to stop for a second. All I need to do is hold them before I start running and the field protects them.”

  I do some math. He can literally traverse the terminal six times in one second. The trick is, he has to stop to pick people up. For a brief moment, it makes him vulnerable. Well, it’s this or go home.

  “Cops and Feds are here,” Domino breaks in.

  She and Force are topside to greet them. If I give the go code, she’ll port him to me then follow with Perfect. Fleet’s only job is to rescue civilians--a perfect use of his powers.

  “Epic, turn on the AC.”

  Now that we’re inside the building we have a little more control. Still can’t tap the cameras, unfortunately. Who knew the airport would have tighter security than a multinational Fortune fifteen company?

  I hear the distant hum of machinery as the HVAC kicks in. Cold air blows into the baggage area. Hopefully, it’s enough to mask Fleet’s speed gusts.

  “Arsenal, there’s a Fed here who wants to know what they’re doing?” Force asks.

  “Nothing. Each of them are standing around like they haven’t a care in the world. The only person who looks antsy is Blade. She’s marching back and forth snapping her sword on and off. Force, do we go? If they decide to start killing people…”

  I don’t even want to think how many will die.

  Long seconds stretch by. Visions of Blade lopping off people’s limbs run rampant in my mind. I can’t fathom why we wouldn’t go, but if the Feds are here, maybe they want to negotiate. If they do, it could cost us the element of surprise. Nothing in any of their records suggests a probability of a successful negotiation. This isn’t some desperate loner who was caught robbing a bank and wants a way out. These six people are hardened criminals and mercenaries. They murder, maim, and kill, all before breakfast.

  “The AIC wants to try talking first,” Force growls.

  “Epic, distortion mode.”

  I wait a second for him to kick it in.

  “What did you say? Do we go?”

  To Force, it will sound as if there is interference. I can always say the HVAC system jammed me up. I don’t care what the Feds want to do. This isn’t what it seems. It smells like a setup, again. Like Las Vegas, there is a potential for a whole lot of innocent deaths. We’re heroes
; we can’t let it go down like that.

  “I said don’t go,” Force growls.

  I pretend like I don’t hear every word, “Go? Roger that. Fleet, we have a go,” I say to him, then to Epic, “Cut off Force’s comms for a moment.”

  Affirmative.

  “No, I said—” and the line goes dead.

  “Arsenal, do I go or stay?” Fleet asks.

  “Last word I heard was ‘go.’”

  He knows the deal and so will everyone else. This gives Force plausible deniability, but everyone else on the comms heard. Lucky for me it’s encrypted by me.

  “Okay, say when.”

  I turn it over to Epic, he’s the one who can do the math far quicker than I. He tells Fleet exactly which person to grab before he starts. To keep things precise, he switches to a sharp half-second tone to tell Fleet when to go.

  The first one goes off. Fleet appears in front of a woman, grabs her and the baby she’s holding and disappears in a blur of speed.

  “Turn Force’s comm back on,” I tell Epic.

  “Don’t go, dammit! Arsenal, respond!”

  “Oh, I heard go, we’ve already got one.”

  I hear a commotion over the comms, it sounds like a crying baby.

  “Fleet dropped her off,” Domino breaks in.

  “It will work, boss,” Fleet says, “I can do this.”

  “Luke, if we want to play it by the book, you can declare this a state emergency by the Militia Act. If the FBI wants to wrest jurisdiction from us they’ll need to get a warrant.”

  Another tone goes off. Fleet blurs into existence in front of a little girl and her younger brother. He heaves them both into his arms and vanishes. He took too long, but it doesn’t look like anyone noticed. I make sure to capture the stream of tears on the dad’s face. I’ll show Fleet later and then he’ll get it.

  “Arsenal, are you sure? We could go to jail,” Domino says, “I’ve never heard of this law.”

  I chuckle, “Article twenty-six, title five-oh-seven. Tell him to read a book.”

  Another tone. Fleet’s in and out with another kid. This could work. There’s one, tiny, flaw in our plan. Eventually, they’re going to notice they don’t have as many hostages as before. They may not all be sharp, but they’re not stupid either. I check the power levels. Everything is charged, and my secondary kinetic emitter is at full power for my new surprise. If I have to alpha strike them I’m pretty sure I can hurt them.