by Drew Hayes
This time, the voice didn’t reply over the communicator. Doctor Mechaniacal’s reply echoed through the entire chamber, broadcast along whatever system was still showing Lodestar squaring off with the Scralthor overhead. “My pleasure, Fornax. In fact, I have just the thing.”
The closest sound Fornax could compare to what came next was a truckload of whistles crashing in a hurricane, which then blew through each one. A cacophony of crunching, crashing, shrill noises, most of which were all nonsense. Only a few soundbites were clear enough for his translator to make them out.
“They’re everywhere. We can’t get out!”
“—large teeth and glowing red eyes, killed—”
“—entire crew eviscerated—”
“—a trap!”
“Seems like this was planned—”
“Zerle, this is a world woven of death.”
That last one was rather poetic, assuming it was the Wrexwren’s actual words and not the translator’s approximation. Zerle Salvrin, however, was not reacting nearly so well to these new sounds. Given that he understood all of them, it was probably quite the bloody accounting of how their invasion was going so far. Selectively blocking the signals had been vital, both to keep the Wrexwren cocky and to ensure Zerle Salvrin was properly caught off guard. Now, he was learning the truth of how his people were faring, or at least, the relative few that might still be alive.
“If you want to break someone at their core, you must first understand what makes up their foundation. From where do they draw their strength. As you informed Lodestar, you are a Zerle, an earned rank, no doubt connected to your position on this ship. I do wonder, how many are required under your command to be a Zerle? Is there a specific number needed? How about you count the ones we hear actually die, and you tell me when I need to start addressing you by another title.”
This noise was nearly a train whistle, a furious burst from Zerle Salvrin which served as the only warning before he sprang, a wild mass of limbs moving faster than any blow thrown before. As planned, he was now fighting for real. No more putting on a show or taking his time; Zerle Salvrin was swinging for the kill. That too was an important part of the process: he had to bring his very best to the fight.
Because that would make Fornax crushing him all the more painful.
Chapter 112
Between the trickle of goons making it through only to be smacked down, the shots on the roof doing some damage on their own, and the few smart enough to leave after they noticed that dozens had gone into the building without anyone reemerging, they were making a surprisingly good pace through the siege’s attackers. A worryingly good pace, if Tachyonic was being honest. For as relatively new to the field as he was, it wasn’t as if Vomisa were without any dangers of its own. Tachyonic had been in enough tight spots to trust his instincts, all of which were screaming that something was off. Whoever had thrown this together put in a lot of effort. There was virtually no chance it would be settled so easily.
That’s why Tachyonic was doing a thorough sweep while he had the opportunity, making sure that none of the crooks were secretly planting explosives or setting up meta-tech devices while everyone else was distracted. Thus far, he’d come up entirely empty. The only things he was passing as he ran were the toppled bodies of criminals that had already been taken out. They were scattered through the halls, most in various states of unconsciousness, with a few showing more substantial injuries—largely the ones who’d been unlucky enough to fight Bahamut.
He paused near an electrical panel that was slightly askew, stepping over three knocked-out minions to get at it. Maybe they’d been doing something when they were interrupted, and the others hadn’t noticed? Yanking open the door, he scanned over the interior, finding nothing amiss. While he wouldn’t have been capable of puzzling out the workings of some complex device, he trusted himself to at least tell if the wires had been yanked out and messed with.
Unfortunately, all that focus on the panel took away from other potential threats, though it wasn’t as if he’d have paid much attention to a defeated foe in the first place. That’s what made it such a perfect hiding space.
The pain was instant, swift, and terrifying: a burning spike driven directly through his left ankle, forcing Tachyonic to lean against the wall as his leg suddenly refused to bear weight. Spinning around, he saw one of the bodies calmly rising to its feet. It appeared to be a largely unremarkable man—plain clothes and simple looks, not even any meta-tech on hand. On the subject on hands, Tachyonic noticed that this fellow did have one very distinguishing feature: his left hand was gaunt, almost skeletal, with dark wisps of smoke rising off it. The smoke was quite similar to a small tendril drifting out of Tachyonic’s new ankle-hole, making the puzzle of what had happened a simple solve.
Struggling, Tachyonic tried to move, hopping slightly away. To his shock, the man made no immediate lunge, but rather followed slowly, as if he had no reason in the world to hurry. Did he not realize that with enough time, Tachyonic could call for backup?
No. He wanted the call for backup to go out. Suddenly, it all made much more sense. Whoever this was had been lying in wait, next to a trap that would draw in any superhero doing a perimeter sweep. He’d hobbled their fastest member in a single blow—that was not a coincidence. Having the power to do such a thing meant nothing if one couldn’t create opportunity. This was someone with a plan, and there was little hope that playing into it worked out well for the New Science Sentries.
The trouble was, if he radioed and warned everyone, there was a strong possibility they might come anyway. Were he to know a friend was in danger, Agent Quantum wouldn’t turn back, and the others would be hot on his heels. Their best shot was if Tachyonic could escape and warn them in person. It might still come down to a fight; the goal was just not to have it on this mystery attacker’s terms.
Running on an ankle with a hole in the middle would be painful as hell, but the real problem was how much it would slow him down. Still, he’d be limping at super-speeds, so hopefully that beat out the ambusher’s running pace. Tilting forward, Tachyonic took off, bolting himself forward. Except something was wrong, more than just his foot. His speed was diluted, weakened, even with the bracer confirming that he was indeed getting a constant setlium output.
He’d barely gotten ten steps down the hall when a strong hand fell upon his shoulder, jerking him back effortlessly. Tachyonic flew into drywall as he was tossed, leaving a sizable dent and receiving a good rattle to the skull. By the time he looked up, the attacker was standing above him once more, staring down with a smile that didn’t fit the skin of his face.
“One of life’s cruel humors; I am the opposing element to your power source. That potent setlium crackling in your cells is suddenly not working so well now that my energy is in the mix, corrupting the bonds that fuel your abilities. The good news is that the effects will fade, eventually. Assuming you survive.”
It was not his smoking left hand, but his still human-looking right that reached forward. Although Tachyonic tried to struggle from the ground, it was useless. This man wasn’t just strong in the sense of Agent Quantum: he was on a whole other level, closer to Professor Quantum. Nothing Tachyonic did, from pulling at his arms to a full-force punch in the face, made any impact. The superhero might as well have been a stiff breeze. The attacks were short-lived, as he soon found his head pressed against the wall as the stranger waved a device next to his ear. When his attacker spoke again, Tachyonic realized with horror that he didn’t just hear it nearby, it was coming through the communicators, as well.
“Good morning, New Science Sentries. I’m pleased at how well you’ve done with the warm-up exercises, but the time has come to take things to the next level. We now know you to be capable of the basics for superhero work. Let us next test your bravery. I have taken Tachyonic, and he won’t be escaping without help. Playing with him will likely keep me occupied for some while, long enough that the rest of you might get away. Time for
your first choice, New Science Sentries. Come save your friend, or live to fight another day. You have five minutes to find us. After that, I’ll put a new hole in him for every minute the entire team isn’t present. Oh, and as you can tell, I’m tapped into your lines. If anyone decides to try to reach the AHC, I’ll leave Tachyonic’s body in the lobby. His head... now that you’ll have to search for.”
Fighting through the pain, Tachyonic stared into those cold, distant eyes. “Why are you doing this? We don’t know you. There’s no grudge here.”
“Poor little pawn. He’s so cruel as to send you out into the world with no idea what you’ll truly be facing, yet somehow, I’m the monster?” While the words might have crafted a veneer of sympathy, there was no touch of humanity in those words. “Take heart, because this isn’t really about you. It never could have been—not if you’d spent decades building to the New Science Sentries’ legacy. He would have never let it be that way. You were always destined to die a footnote, just one more person for Professor Quantum to step over in his quest for greatness.”
It might not be the nicest sentiment, but at least it made sense. The New Science Sentries hadn’t gotten into nearly enough trouble to have grudges like this held against them. The Science Sentries in their original incarnation, especially with Professor Quantum in the lead, would be a very different story. And as someone who’d grown up around Professor Quantum, Tachyonic had no trouble believing someone could hate the man that much. In other circumstances, it might even have been a point of bonding.
“Look, I’m sorry if Professor Quantum screwed you over in some way. That’s just who he is. You’re one of countless. But it has nothing to do with us.”
“So very wrong, on multiple levels,” the attacker countered. “You became part of it when he gave you that name, when he decided to add to his legacy using you four as tools. You are connected to his accomplishments—which is to say, his ego—and nothing hurts him more than being attacked there. Besides which, I am not ‘one of countless’ as you implied. I am, without question, the first one destroyed by Professor Quantum’s ambition.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” Tachyonic spat, half hoping to keep him distracted, half trying to keep his mind off the pain in his ankle.
There was a placidness to the man as he spread his arms, one hand normal, the other letting off plumes of dark smoke. “Because on the day he betrayed me, his name was still Vernon.”
Sunshine covered the green landscape, where verdant trees and lush grass grew in every direction. As the Wrexwren moved, it noted the structure up ahead: simple, yet large and well-maintained. This was a lived-in area, which made it more dangerous. The rest of the team would be circling, ensuring they took the occupants by surprise.
In front of the structure, many tiny humans were running about, wasting their already short lives on frivolity. Such energy would be better used in industries across the galaxy, once the Wrexwren understood how much labor a human body could endure at various levels of growth. There would be trial and error, but there was no shortage of subjects to learn from.
Stepping out of the woods, the Wrexwren leader began to raise his weapon, only to have his view cut off. The rest of his team was around him—only, chunks of their bodies had been torn out. Worse, there were more appearing: the Stropolof warriors they’d mowed through, the devoted innocents who’d been wiped out by his fire on Tregle-9. More and more, the past appeared, all of it looking right at him, deadly hatred in their eyes.
Together, the mass of unseen horrors descended upon the Wrexwren leader, viciously tearing him apart as they had the rest of his crew. None of the playing children witnessed any of this, however. They were busy making a fort with their current caretaker, a grown man with dirty-blond hair. He alone looked to the dying Wrexwren, no pity whatsoever present on that serene face. For a moment, in the pain of death, the alien believed he saw something else, like a pair of metal wings extending behind the peaceful man.
Kristoph handed out fresh crayons to a child drawing the landscape, not a single Wrexwren or ship to be seen in the artwork. Taking a role of protection had made the most sense for him on this chaotic day. While the Wrexwren invasion would no doubt have casualties among every age group, there was little purpose to hunting them down.
The guild was already making sure that when the day was done, the Wrexwren would thoroughly answer for their crimes.
“Holy shit.” Presto stopped cold, and Plasmodia looked as though she might be ill. The smaller cape’s face was hidden by his mask, yet the anger made it into his words without any obstruction whatsoever. “Oh, this guy is so dead.”
“He could be bluffing.” Plasmodia’s rebuttal was weak—she didn’t believe it. This was a moment’s respite in brief denial.
“Not on our communication channel, he isn’t.” Presto started for the roofline, only to be snared by Cyber Geek.
Hephaestus, for her part, was mostly trying to keep the blasts raining down, though the available targets were getting thin. After a prolonged period of firing and letting them past in batches, most were either inside, injured, or had decided this was not worth the effort and bailed. “Anyone want to loop me in on what’s going on? Temporary allies and all?”
She was unprepared for the furious dervish who suddenly appeared next to her, Presto grabbing her helmet and trying to force it into his eye-line. “You! If you had anything to do with—”
Hephaestus jerked her helmet forward. She nearly smashed Presto in the nose until he leapt away at the last moment, though she did succeed in her attempt at breaking his grip. “I have about had it with the goddamn threats. In case you didn’t notice, I am not a fucking cape, and I do not have to be here putting up with your shit. Flying out has been an option from the start. Now, will you cut the posturing and tell me if there’s anything new I need to know about?”
“Someone captured Tachyonic and sent a message over the nearby AHC communicators.” The response came not from Presto, who was still fuming, but rather from Cyber Geek. “They’re going to torture him until the New Science Sentries come help. And apparently kill him if we attempt to call in any backup.”
Suddenly, Presto’s rage made a great deal more sense. What she comprehended less, however, was the unforeseen surge of anger that suddenly tore up from Tori’s gut. There was a time when she wouldn’t have understood what it meant, but Lodestar’s words still hung heavy on her mind. She could put up all the walls, pretend that there weren’t bonds, and go through her entire life acting as if she had no human connections. Lying to herself was the only area where it was doomed to fail. Because deep down, she knew when she felt that instinctive reaction, that every part of her was saying No. Tachyonic... Kyle... was intrusive, often said the wrong thing, and had generally made her life more complicated since he’d arrived in it.
But he was her friend. She could accept that now, while there was still time to act, or later, when nothing she did would matter.
Just like that, the world made sense again. It didn’t matter if he was a cape, or a villain, a meta-human, an alien, a god, or a demon. She wanted him around, alive, and that made him hers, in a sense. If there was one thing that defined Tori Rivas, one truth carved into her soul as she endured the beeping hell of watching her parents slowly fade away, it was this:
No one stole from her. No one took what was hers, be it items, ideas, or people she cared for. Whoever this person was, they had made a huge mistake. It wasn’t merely the capes they’d pissed off with that move, they’d caught the attention of a dangerous villain, as well.
“Then why the hell are you all still standing here? Shouldn’t we be sweeping for him?”
The three capes looked at her, visible worry in their eyes. Hephaestus been an ally so far, but also an adversary in the past. With the stakes suddenly dire, their tenuous trust was stretched thin, torn between the need for more bodies in the fight versus pairing with people they actually trusted.
“I feel like one of you
is about to threaten me yet again, which is not only unneeded, at this point, it’s actively rude. You don’t like me, fine. Don’t trust me, that’s fair too. But you’re all smart enough to understand that I’m a guild member, meaning that there are rules I play by. Torturing and killing capes is not a part of that. Whoever this person is, they’re disrespecting my organization, as well. Now, that’s not the same as ‘kidnapped friend’ for motivation, sure, but it’s more than enough reason to plant my beam in the base of their skull.”
“Let Hephaestus come. What matters most is getting Tachyonic back. Anything else, we can deal with after.” Presto headed toward the rooftop doorway, his only way into the building since they lacked a clear line of sight. “But we stay together as we move. Anyone capable of taking down Tachyonic is not to be underestimated.”
The mere fact that Presto, of all people, was being so serious drove the gravity of the situation home. Hephaestus followed the capes from the roof, leaving the few straggling goons waiting for shots that would never come. They had a new threat to deal with, and this one was not nearly so easily countered.
Chapter 113
“The new guy is kind of intense.” Pest Control directed his swarm of meta-hornets into the Wrexwren cockpit, drawing more whistle-screams from within. Whatever physical characteristics the aliens had, immunity to insects that had been mutated by a chemical spill was not among them. Since adding these specimens to his arsenal, the villain’s deadliness had gone up considerably, though this was his first chance to really cut loose with them.
Nearby, Glyph snapped in triumph as a different Wrexwren soldier stepped into one of the hidden magical runes placed along the ground. Without warning, he turned on his comrade, firing onto the other Wrexwren who’d trusted their leader with their lives, killing several before they managed to shoot back and bring it all to an end. “Yeah, he’s really racking up the bodies.”