The Veteran heard Deimos approach. With inhuman speed he turned his rifle toward Deimos and fired, but the bullet deflected midair off of Hells Belts’ magnetic field. The Veteran grimaced. With a powerful flex of his legs he leapt off the roof of the building. He soared over the street and landed on a rooftop on the opposite side.
Deimos reached the roof of the first building out of breath. He turned to face the other side of the street and saw The Veteran awkwardly positioning himself around with his wide legs. He took aim at Deimos and fired. Again, the bullet was deflected. Deimos sighed and hopped off the roof, activating his thrusters moments before landing to reduce the impact. He hit the ground in a roll and took off toward The Veteran again to repeat the process, slowly pushing the supervillain away from Eve and her followers.
Meanwhile, Siren had reached Eve behind her wall of dead fans. Eve was still lamenting over her friend, crying out in agony as Triceratop riddled more of her followers with bullets. The wall of their bodies piled up and soon after Triceratop’s guns clicked empty. Siren tried to pull Eve away from the bodies but she was entirely inconsolable and unable to move. In a moment of panic, Siren grabbed Eve’s face and pointed it toward hers. Eve immediately stopped crying and looked up at Siren.
“I’ve known Megan for years,” Eve said, stroking the dead woman’s hair. “She was one of my closest friends.”
Siren gripped Eve by her shoulders and pulled her close.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know how you’re feeling, trust me, but this isn’t the time to mourn. Look how many others have already died. There’s only going to be more death unless you help us stop these assholes right now.”
Eve looked down at her deceased friend. She then looked up at the pile of three-dozen followers that had already given their lives for her. The look of ferocious intensity slowly returned to her face.
“Fuck this ass hole,” Eve said wiping away her tears. She turned back to Siren. “What can I do?”
“Get your people to form a barrier around you and follow my lead,” Siren stated.
Eve stood with determination.
“Everyone, cover me!” she shouted.
Immediately, dozens more of Eve’s followers appeared. They ran in from side streets, alleys, and down the block as if they had been waiting for her command. They formed a protective barrier around her, placing themselves between Eve and Triceratop. Glenn, Harold, Terry, and Professor Paws ran to Siren’s side, joining the growing crowd of people facing off against the enraged supervillain.
Siren shouted to Eve, “Stay behind me. When you see an opening, all of you need to charge him.”
Siren stepped forward ahead of the crowd and turned the gem on her choker. She sang a resonant tone and the choker immediately amplified it. The crowd behind Siren shouted in pain as the sound reverberated through the street and shattered the store windows. Triceratop was hit with the full blast of Siren’s song and his miniguns vibrated intensely on his forearms. He screamed out a mighty roar.
With shaking hands, Triceratop turned to the van and reached inside. He threw out a reinforced block speaker that slid to a stop between himself and Siren. A short burst of sound emanated from the speaker before it returned a resonant tone that canceled out Siren’s singing.
Hans’ drone flew down toward Siren.
“I had one of my scientists cook that up this morning just for you,” Hans said. “It’s a resonance dampener, so no more of those lovely songs you like to sing.”
“Dammit,” Siren whispered.
Eve shouted from deep in the crowd, “Is this the opening we were waiting for?”
“Change of plans,” Siren shouted back. “Get that speaker!”
Eve gave the signal and the crowd surged forward in a deafening charge. They shouted war cries and insults at Triceratop. He roared back and followed suit, charging toward the speaker. He was much faster than them but the crowd had a head start. The moment Triceratop reached forward to grab the speaker, a messy-haired teenager kicked it away. Triceratop fumed and backhanded the boy, exploding his head clean off his shoulders.
Another one of Eve’s followers grabbed the device and threw it into the throng of supporters behind him. They crowd surfed the speaker away from Triceratop while running back down the street. Triceratop watched the speaker steadily moving through the crowd. He picked a trajectory, readied his stance, then charged forward. He smashed through the crowd like a snowplow through fresh powder. Anyone he came in contact with was either flung aside like a rag doll or crushed beneath his heavy steps.
Word had already spread through the Internet that Eve was downtown and in need of help. As Triceratop continued to charge through the throng of followers, more die-hard fans raced to their location to refill the ranks. Before long Triceratop was surrounded by a sea of pissed-off locals looking for blood. They threw themselves at him in droves, slowing down his advancements toward the resonance device.
◊ ◊ ◊
As Eve’s followers played the most dangerous game of Monkey in the Middle, Deimos was having an equally difficult time with The Veteran. They had raced down several blocks and were headed toward the Industrial District, an area Deimos thought would have fewer civilians to get in the way. He was growing tired of running up the side of buildings and regretted not simply taking Indiana Drones. Of course that would mean turning off Hells Belts, which he couldn’t afford to do since The Veteran had not stopped firing his rifle at Deimos.
“You must realize that isn’t going to work by now, right?” Deimos shouted to The Veteran after another failed murder attempt.
“Shut up!” The Veteran shouted back.
He leapt back and forth between the buildings, cracking the brick and concrete with each powerful jump. He built up his speed then aimed himself at Deimos who was taking a breather on the sidewalk. Deimos activated his thrusters and darted sideways to avoid the oncoming supervillain.
The Veteran flew past Deimos and crashed into a storefront window. He blasted through several rows of merchandise, scattering the shoppers that were inside. Deimos approached the gaping hole and peered in.
“Can we talk about this?” Deimos asked cautiously. “Do you even know who you work for? He isn’t who he says he is.”
“I said shut up!” The Veteran shouted from within the shop.
Deimos heard The Veteran’s gun click empty. After a scream of rage, the empty rifle came flying at Deimos and bounced harmlessly off his shield.
The Veteran dropped onto his back and began kicking rubble and shelves, which tore out of the shop and flew toward Deimos at blinding speeds. Deimos rocketed to the side to dodge a sizable chunk of concrete but was too slow. It hammered into his robotic legs and he fell face forward, landing on Hells Belts in a loud CRUNCH.
Deimos sprawled out on the road in agonizing pain. He had smashed his nose in the fall and it was bleeding profusely. The Veteran saw his opening and leapt forward out of the shop, grabbing his rifle along the way. He landed beside Deimos and kicked him over, landing the kick directly on Deimos’ injured rib. Deimos couldn’t even muster a scream through the pain. All that escaped his mouth was a quiet rush of air emptying from his lungs.
The Veteran reached into his pocket and pulled out his last bullet. He loaded it into the rifle, cocked it, then shoved the barrel into Deimos’ face. Hans’ drone, which had been hovering above the two for the last several blocks, descended behind The Veteran’s shoulder.
“Very good, Veteran,” Hans exclaimed. “Very good!”
Deimos looked up into The Veteran’s eyes. They were red and watery, which Deimos had mistaken earlier for anger, but up close they appeared fearful and sad. For some reason his eyes reminded Deimos of Triceratop, another man who appeared to be acting outside of his control.
“Please,” Deimos pleaded. “You don’t have to do this. Let me help you.”
“
Begging for your life?” Hans sneered. “So disappointing. I was foolish to think you could ever see what I see.”
“Oh yeah? What do you see, Hans?” Deimos asked. “Because from where I’m looking, all I see is an unstable old man with delusions of grandeur. Killing me won’t change that.”
“Too bad you won’t be around to find out if that’s true. Veteran, finish him.”
As The Veteran placed his finger over the trigger, a low rumbling echoed through the streets. The Veteran froze, immediately recognizing the sound for what it was—the whine of a warplane. He broke into a full sweat and stumbled backward. He dropped his rifle and grabbed his head as if it would split open if he wasn’t holding it together.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hans screamed. “Finish it!”
Hans’ voice was drowned out by the ever-increasing whine of the warplane engines. The sound rapidly increased into a roar as three low flying A1 Skyraiders banked around a building four blocks away.
Deimos painfully tilted his head to face the sound. He was able to make out the three planes and what looked like a fuzzy bird on top of the leading Skyraider. As the planes drew closer, Deimos realized the fuzzy bird was in fact The Buzzard in his glorious ‘80s villain costume, riding on top of the plane like a circus horseback rider. Gripped in one hand, he had a long rope looped around the plane’s midsection. The other hand was being used to smoke a cigar.
The planes leveled out only a few meters above the street and sped toward Deimos and The Veteran in attack formation.
“What the f-” Hans began before a quick blast from the leading Skyraider’s cannon fire decimated his drone.
The Veteran stumbled back and attempted to leap away but was too late. A modified delivery system underneath The Buzzard’s plane activated to reveal a large net held open by two spring-loaded bars. The Veteran was scooped into the net and dangled beneath the plane as it pulled up above the buildings and out of sight.
Deimos looked around in bewilderment, his mouth agape. The entire interaction took place over the course of a few seconds and he was having difficulty grasping what had just happened. Realization set in and he looked down at his unmoving robotic legs, which had been mangled by The Veteran’s flying debris. Deimos’ shock turned into disappointment.
“Well, shit,” Deimos muttered.
He reached around and grabbed a metal rod from a shelving unit and used it to stand. He then turned and started the long hobble to where his henchmen, Siren, and Eve were facing off against Triceratop.
◊ ◊ ◊
Five blocks over, many of Eve’s followers had already been killed trying to keep the speaker away from Triceratop. Whenever Triceratop was busy with one wave of followers, those holding the speaker would throw it, stomp on it, or bang it against a wall. Despite their best efforts, they could not even dent it.
Wave after wave of fans crashed into Triceratop in an attempt to overpower him, but they were vastly outmatched. Despite the efforts of over one hundred of Eve’s fervent fans, they could not take down the raging supervillain.
Siren had just pulled Eve out of the way from a flying corpse when she heard the rumbling of the Skyraiders. She turned and saw the three attack planes diving down, angled directly at Triceratop.
“Get everyone away from Triceratop!” she exclaimed to Eve.
Eve relayed the orders to her followers who rushed away, leaving Triceratop alone in the middle of the street surrounded by a littering of dead bodies. Triceratop spun around, confused. His limited brainpower churned in an attempt to figure out why he had suddenly run out of people to kill. Before he had time to realize what was happening, the three planes simultaneously fired their cannons at him.
The barrage of bullets peppered Triceratop but could not pierce his armor. Still, their force was enough to knock him to the ground. Suddenly, the cannon fire stopped and something larger soared down from one of the planes toward Triceratop. It was The Veteran, unconscious and flailing like a doll in a washing machine.
Something instinctual clicked on in Triceratop’s head. He rose up in a dash to catch the falling man. He leapt up as The Veteran collided with him and they both tumbled backward onto the road. Above them, the planes looped around for another attack.
Triceratop looked at the crowd surrounding him, up at the circling planes, then down to The Veteran who was unconscious in his arms. Making his decision, he turned and took off back down the road, running away and out of sight.
The crowd of Eve’s followers erupted into cheers. Even more fans filed in from surrounding streets to join in the festivities, though many of them were unsure what they were celebrating. Eve, however, simply walked mournfully to her fallen friend’s side. Although the fight had been won, Eve didn’t see it that way. All she could see were the mounds of corpses strewn about the street, the people with friends and families who had given their lives for hers.
Siren approached Eve and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Siren with tears in her eyes.
“Is it over?” Eve asked.
“For now,” Siren replied.
Eve burst into tears. It was as if the only thing that was holding them back was the need to continue the fight. She collapsed and embraced Siren. After a moment of hesitation, Siren caved and hugged her back.
Further down the road, the Skyraiders landed on the asphalt road with an echoing screech. The Buzzard leapt off the top of his plane with more athleticism than anyone his age should rightfully have.
“I wouldn’t have minded a lift,” Deimos shouted from behind him with a smile.
Immediately, Terry, Glenn, and Harold ran to his side.
“Ah, my boys!” Deimos beamed as he collapsed into his henchmen’s arms.
They helped him up and he hobbled toward The Buzzard.
“I don’t know where to begin,” Deimos said once they reached him. “Thank you. You saved my life.”
“All right, enough with the sappy sentiments,” The Buzzard grimaced.
“What happened to not wanting anything to do with us?” Glenn asked sheepishly.
“It’s not too late for me to change my mind,” The Buzzard growled in response.
Siren and Eve approached the men. Eve had stopped crying. Her look of ferocious intensity had returned. She walked straight up to Deimos and pointed her finger in his face.
“What the hell just happened?” Eve barked. “What was the deal with that big motherfucker with guns on his hands that killed my posse? How was he so strong? And how the hell did that other guy jump so damn high? This is the craziest shit I’ve ever seen in my entire life and it all happened thirty seconds after meeting you.” She turned to The Buzzard. “And were you riding on top of an airplane?”
“I know this seems like a lot, but honestly this kind of stuff happened all the time back in the eighties,” Deimos said. “I am truly very sorry for what happened to your friends. I understand what you’re feeling right now, Hans did the same thing to me and my henchmen thirty years ago, but I beg you, don’t make the same mistake I did. Rise to the occasion. Help us stop him from ever doing this again. Stick around, give us everything you’ve got, and push your imagination a little bit. If we all work together, then we might have a shot in stopping Hans for good.”
Eve considered this for a moment.
“Let’s get this son of a bitch,” she said firmly.
Deimos patted Eve warmly on the back.
“You’re going to fit in just fine,” he said smiling.
Terry interjected, “Not to be that guy, but we don’t have anywhere to live now.”
“Oh, that’s not a problem,” Eve said. She turned to the crowd of her fans waiting obediently behind them and shouted, “Hey! We need somewhere to sleep! Anyone got room at their place?”
Fifty hands immediately shot up.
“There you go,” Eve continued. �
�All taken care of.”
“All right!” Deimos exclaimed. “Villain slumber party!” He turned to The Buzzard and winked. “I bet you have some amazing pj’s.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Deimos woke early the next morning in agonizing pain. He felt as if someone had dug meat hooks into his ribs while he was sleeping and they were now being pulled in eight different directions. He carefully shifted his weight, biting back the urge to scream, and lifted his shirt. The entire left side of his chest where The Veteran had kicked him was a hue of purple and red. He quickly scanned the room for anyone who could help.
Terry, Glenn, Harold, Siren, Professor Paws, The Buzzard, Eve, and an assortment of Eve’s followers were scattered throughout a large loft. They had all decided to stick together the night prior for safety and ended up at the apartment of one of Eve’s followers, whose name Deimos had already forgotten.
Deimos turned his gaze to his right and saw Terry, open-mouthed and snoring. He nudged him and Terry reluctantly opened his eyes. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings. He blinked back at Deimos unrecognizably, but in a flash he saw the massive bruise on Deimos’ chest and opened his eyes wide. Deimos shushed Terry and motioned for him to wake Harold and Glenn. After doing so, and waiting the solid four minutes it took Harold to wake up, they silently lifted Deimos up from the floor and carefully moved him to a stool in the kitchen.
Once they were out of earshot, Terry whispered, “Shit, boss. Are you going to be okay?”
Deimos grumbled, “Yeah, it’s only a bruised rib. Not much we can do other than keep it sturdy. Grab the Cast of Growing Pains from the medkit.”
The Cast of Growing Pains was a handheld medical device Deimos invented in 1986. It sprayed an anti-inflammatory foam onto an injured area and within minutes the foam would harden into a cast. It was originally created for when Deimos’ henchmen got injured on longer missions and were unable to get to a hospital in time, but Deimos found that more often than not his henchmen would use it to make expensive foam snowmen.
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