Mastermind

by Steven Kelliher

  The nimble fighter seemed to anticipate the impact sites of the missiles and spun away from one as it formed a shallow, coffin-sized dome over the ground, and he actually leapt over the second, bracing against it and using the momentum to leap up toward Prism, who floated just out of reach. Blackstrike hit the ground with his sash waving like a flag and rolled out of the impact. I marked his every movement, filing the information away for safekeeping.

  Of course, I needed to make sure I escaped the encounter with my life.

  “Despot,” Starshot shouted. I shook myself back into my immediate surroundings, and steeled myself to meet the now-familiar hero as she stalked toward me, all fire and brimstone.

  “General,” B5 said, his voice crackling over the transmitter that had once again been damaged by Starshot’s Righteous Rays. “Shall I—”

  “Tell them to hold back,” I said. “Only engage in case of an emergency. This guy’s out of our league.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m not going to engage. I’ll be along short—”

  “Nope,” Starshot said, zooming toward me with a burst of yellow energy from the bottoms of her white boots.

  I’d brought the silver swarm grenade out of its latch but lost it in the rush, grasping for my stasis gun as Starshot streaked toward me, her fists glowing with energy.

  Was she going to beat me hand-to-hand this time?

  As I fell backward, I levelled the stasis gun, but Starshot smashed into me with both fists extended, sending the gun flying and the two of us slamming into the hard-packed ash. My HP flashed from yellow to orange.

  Despot: 60% HP

  We rolled after we hit, and Starshot came out on top, straddling me. She locked one glowing, pulsing hand around my neck and raised the other in a fist above her head, her eyes glowing like wrath, hair dancing like a goddess. She looked like a Valkyrie.

  She didn’t seem to be thinking straight. Would she accidentally kill me herself?

  I tried to choke out a few words before she blasted me from existence, and possibly from the world of Titan Online forever. All that came out was a gargled rattle.

  “What?” she said, loosening her grip just enough to let me speak. I could see Prism hurling his barriers down toward the ground and heard one shatter before Atlas’s roar broke the sky and announced his renewed rampage.

  “Just… marveling,” I said, “at how heroic you must appear right… now.”

  That seemed to weaken something within Starshot. Her eyes dimmed, and her fist loosened. She looked down, noting the black soot streaks marring her costume, and seemed to consider letting me go.

  But then she gritted her teeth, pursed her lips into a tight line and brightened once more. “I’ll let them figure out what to do with you once I get you back to Titan City.”

  No way in hell was I letting that happen.

  It suddenly occurred to me that Starshot, while powerful, was not possessed of significant brawn. Fighting me at close range was a mistake, and indicative of her emotions getting the better of her. Sure, she might have the edge there too. She likely had the edge in most every range, as long as it was a one-on-one fight. But I could change that. If I could just—

  I bucked and thrashed, dislodging Starshot for a moment. That was all it took. I grabbed a fistful of her shining golden hair and yanked it to the side, rolling and then scrambling back. Starshot hit the ground hard and shot a beam that caught me in the ribs as I tried to disentangle myself from her. It sent me spinning, and I landed hard.

  Despot: 53% HP

  I shifted and heard a click, realizing that I’d landed on the swarm grenade. I smiled as Starshot regained her feet and took to the skies, bringing her glowing hands together above me.

  When I rolled over, it was like a nest erupting. A nest of Despots. And the effect was dizzying on Starshot, whose glowing eyes darted to and fro, trying to mark which of the dozen images to shoot. I stood and took off with the pack, circling back in as I rounded the field of green gemstone barriers, most of them shattered by Atlas, who was still raging as Prism sent cocoon after crystalized cocoon down at him.

  My clones began to mimic me, some of them running back in from the pathways around the chemical, smoke-belching towers and filling the yard with their chaotic presence. Starshot let out a strangled scream and began blasting. Everywhere she hit, one of my images shimmered and winked out. At this rate, she’d run out of energy fast. Even the beams she did send out weren’t strong enough to do significant damage. She was testing, and the testing was going to sap her reserves quickly.

  I bumped into a reeling Blackstrike as I ran. He had managed to avoid another of Prism’s emerald coffins but had come no closer to landing a blow on the flying hero. He looked wild and angry, but not half as much as Atlas, who I skidded to a stop to avoid. Two of my images weren’t so lucky; the thrashing behemoth – half buried under a mounting pile of conjured gemstone – inadvertently dashed them from the yard with one sweep of his massive fist.

  “Atlas!” Blackstrike yelled, shoving me out of the way as he streaked past. Atlas didn’t so much as glance back at him. Instead, he kept his right arm braced in front of him, warding off Prism’s assault as the emerald crystals threatened to encase him, and lowered his left arm, fist clenched. Blackstrike leapt with uncanny agility and landed with his insteps on the inside of Atlas’s bent arm, and the titan launched him skyward.

  Prism’s green eyes widened behind his helm as Blackstrike shot up toward him, and the hero couldn’t dodge in time. I almost cheered as the villain struck him with an open palm to the chin, hard enough to dislodge the gaudy bucket on his head. The two of them started to fall, Prism’s short dirty-blond hair shaking under the impact of the blow as he fell backward, head-first toward the ash.

  Prism: 93% HP

  One of my images skidded to a halt beside me. Luckily, Starshot chose wrong, immolating that one with a stronger beam that sent me diving to the side. When I rolled over, her glowing eyes fixated on me.

  “Crap.”

  My other images – seven left now – continued to jump, run and skid in a strange miming of my recent actions, and some even dove to the side, seemingly at random, avoiding blasts that didn’t exist. But Starshot’s eyes remained fixed on me.

  The real me.

  She sent a beam toward me that I only just managed to dodge, and when I came up, I found my vision obscured by a thick pall of ash. I fought through the choking plume only to be hit hard when I emerged, my HP at 40% and flashing a deep amber.

  The force of Starshot’s attack sent me sprawling. Across the yard, I caught a glimpse of Atlas running toward the place where Prism had fallen. I propped myself up and then stood, looking up to see Starshot, alternating bright and dim, her flickering eyes regarding me with intensity. They switched to Atlas, and widened, and I followed the direction of her gaze.

  Blackstrike had managed to land on his feet, like a cat, while Prism had landed hard on his back, seemingly unconscious. I wondered if Blackstrike had some sort of paralyzing effect with his strikes. However, when the villain reached down and seized the hero by the front of his cape, Prism latched onto his forearms with both hands and flashed a dastardly smile. There was a green flare, and Blackstrike was coated in a form-fitting emerald shell like a fossilized mosquito. Prism whipped him to the side, where Blackstrike struck the ground in his green casket and rolled once before landing face-down.

  I didn’t see any damage markers above Blackstrike’s prone form. The emerald coffins must have a time limit, making Prism a highly effective battlefield manager, as long as he had a little muscle along with him. I suppose Starshot was today’s.

  I smiled to see Prism’s eyes widen as he took in Atlas’s approach. The villain lowered his shoulder and roared, and Prism extended both palms. Instead of a single shimmering shell, a many-faceted emerald beam emerged. When it struck Atlas, it began to coat him in that living crystal shield. But Atlas kept on coming. Now that he had momentum, he seemed imposs
ible to stop. For a tier four, he seemed to be possessed of impressive brawn, and I was guessing it tied into his superpower.

  Prism’s confident look went a little pale as the shadow of Atlas – encrusted and shimmering green though he was – engulfed him.

  Just then, Starshot landed in the middle of the yard, slammed the heels of her palms together and sent a thick yellow ray of energy at Atlas from the side. Now that he had slowed to a stop, he seemed somehow weaker, and her blast took him from his feet and sent him tumbling. He hit the side of another chemical tower hard enough to crack it, and looked dazed.

  Atlas: 85% HP

  Prism wasted no time, following up the attack by forming a spinning ball of gemstone and hurling it toward the reeling villain. It expanded just before it struck Atlas, and pinned him to the side of the tower, its anchors pressing in deeply as Prism concentrated. He pushed out at the air with his ash-stained palms. Atlas was in no position to break through the shell this time, and Blackstrike wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Rather than the previous barriers Prism had shot, these were tighter, seeming more akin to living armor that trapped its victims like webbing rather than domes or glass cases.

  The hero looked exhausted as he let his hands drop to his sides, and then the pair of them seemed to remember me.

  Though somewhat drained compared to their initial fiery states, the heroes were still more than capable of finishing me off. Before I could think to react, Prism extended his palms out toward the southern half of the yard where my clones and I stood, facing them like a murder of curious, white-masked crows.

  The air in front of each of us shimmered for a spell, and then barriers sprouted with shocking speed, encasing the lot of us.

  An emerald coffin began to shrink in toward me. As the same thing happened to my clones, they flashed and winked out, one by one. When the sides of my own prison pressed in against my shoulders, it didn’t feel quite as strong as I’d expected. I glanced at the struggling Atlas and Blackstrike, and noted that their own cages seemed much thicker than mine.

  Maybe Prism was running out of juice after all. Or maybe he just knew he needed less to contain a tier-five villain with more bone than muscle.

  “Now, then,” Prism said, catching his breath as he focused on the real me. “Time to finish this.”

  “Right,” Starshot said, stepping forward. She extended her own glowing palm, her eyes showing no emotion as she prepared to shoot me in my lone cocoon.

  “Stand down, cadet,” Prism said, dismissing Starshot. He walked by her and strode confidently in front of her, squeezing his fist as he did. My gemstone prison started to close in, squeezing my shoulders and threatening to pop me like a grape. My HP flashed again, going from deep amber to red as it started a freefall.

  Despot: 37% HP… 29%… 21%

  I strained against the shell. It seemed to give some, cracking at the edges, but I didn’t have the brawn for the task. Starshot’s eyes dimmed enough to show the irises as she watched. She did not look pleased, nor entirely surprised.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It must have been a desperate, maniacal sound, and it did nothing to improve Starshot’s mood.

  “We agreed that Despot was mine,” she said. “We have a rivalry. I won’t get the full bonus if you defeat him.”

  “True,” Prism said. He released his phantom grip abruptly, letting me breathe. My HP cascade stopped at 14%, just a hair above the knockout breakpoint.

  Starshot looked relieved.

  “But then,” Prism said, “I could use the Fame points, and knocking out three villains in one encounter? Doesn’t get much better than that.” He tossed a sly, condescending look back at Starshot, threatening as much as challenging her. “I’ll make sure your… contributions are noted back at Gallant Tower.”

  The sun broke through the smog and cloud cover then and bathed Starshot in light. She ignited. I don’t know if she made the decision consciously or not. Her body seemed to react of its own volition.

  “What?” Prism asked, half turning toward his would-be pupil. “Going to do something about it? Strike out at me and see where that gets you.”

  For an instant, Starshot looked like she might do just that. Her face scrunched up and her orange eyes flashed dangerously.

  “Oh, come now,” Prism said, his reedy voice grating. “Don’t be so glum. You’ll get your chance. Eventually.”

  “You promised…” Starshot said. She took a step forward, but I could tell by her bearing she wouldn’t take another.

  Prism wasn’t taking the chance. He surprised me by raising a green-glowing palm toward the upstart hero. Before she could react, she found herself standing in stunned betrayal as a green shell closed around her, muting her sunlit form. Starshot screamed and beat against the edged walls, but Prism only rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

  It boiled my blood to see the exchange, even if it benefited me in the short term.

  “Oh, relax,” he said. “Just teaching you some manners, is all. Now,” he started a slow turn back toward me, “where were we?”

  The cracks in the gemstone in front of my face spread, but before my own shell broke, I heard the sound of glass shattering to my right.

  Prism whirled to see Blackstrike heading toward him with all speed, the shards of his crystal prison still spinning in the air. Atlas had managed to extricate himself from his own encrusted cocoon, and the monster was closing on the heels of his diminutive friend.

  Someone was shouting. I strained to move in my bondage, but couldn’t get a clear look. I felt my enclosure shake as someone – something – slammed into it. A flash of yellow and gray and I saw Sebastian’s bulk to my right. My loyal soldier had arrived and had speared the end of a crowbar into one of the gem’s cracks and now heaved.

  Across the battlefield, Prism smashed his palms together and sent a shimmering ray of green toward Blackstrike, but the villain saw it coming. He slid under the beam and came up without breaking stride, then cut right as Prism jutted a hand out. Emerald spires broke through the ashen crust in the yard. They were sharp and rose quick as striking serpents, but Blackstrike dodged them all.

  Beyond the embattled players, I saw other figures approach the yard. Hobb, Brooks, Sascha and Kayde were running, their eyes on the superpowered battle in the center of the yard. Sascha and Brooks had guns leveled, while Hobb and Kayde had shock spears sparking.

  As the fight ensued, Prism lost track of me. Sebastian continued mining the gemstone until the spiderweb cracks in the crystal were so plentiful I couldn’t see the yard beyond them. I pressed my gloved hand against the glass and pushed, and shards cracked away like a flaking egg shell.

  “Thank you, Sebastian,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.

  “What should we do, boss?”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand, and my minions eased up on their triggers. Together, we watched the fight play out.

  Prism took to the skies again, levitating as Blackstrike got too close for his liking. He still didn’t see me and my minions. Or he didn’t care enough to bother.

  Blackstrike missed his next leaping strike, and as he fell away from the hero, I spoke the command.

  “Fire.”

  The guns opened fire, and Kayde let his sparking spear fly. Prism reacted more quickly than I would have thought, but a few stray bullets grazed him before he managed to raise a defensive barrier.

  Prism: 85% HP

  But now his attention was on my group, and not on Sebastian and me. His back was exposed, as were his flanks.

  Before I knew what was happening, I had pulled the Shock Spear free of the harness on Sebastian’s back. I don’t even know if I ignited the tip before I took a running lead and hurled it with all my meager brawn into the sky. If it struck true, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t Leviathan, or even Atlas. A stray bullet to the head could kill an unsuspecting hero if his armor rating was low enough.

  My aim was true. Far truer than I had any right to expect, and the obsidian hooks
buried themselves into Prism’s side. The impact, continued shock damage and Prism’s evidently abysmal armor rating combined to punch a huge dent in his health.

  Prism: 30% HP

  He blinked, hovered for a long second, and then fell like a shot bird, spinning end over end with the spear embedded in his side. He didn’t look like he was going to land well. In fact, even I had to turn away when the butt end of the spear landed first, driving the tip straight through the hero’s side.

  Prism: 6% HP

  Prism gasped and choked, but lay prone on his stomach, and the respawn counter started. The black viewer bots circled down from on high, making clicking sounds as their lenses shifted to take in every angle of the hero’s impending demise.

  Blackstrike climbed out of a thicket of green bladed spires that were twice his height and Atlas slowed his charge, looking my way as his great shadow fell over the green-clad hero.

  I had twenty-five seconds left to make my choice. Another sound of splintering glass, and I saw Starshot tensing against her own emerald shell. She looked wounded and betrayed, and it reminded me of my mission. My great purpose.

  I made my decision and walked toward Prism, picking up one of his own emerald shards on the way.

  Prism tried to choke something out at me, his chest heaving, eyes wide.

  “Long build, I’m guessing?”

  My shadow wasn’t nearly as large as Atlas’s, but it was twice as dark. Before Prism could answer, I plunged the shard into his neck.

  Encounter Ends

  Despot vs. Prism