by Drew Hayes
The sound was wetter than he’d expected, given all the rough armor on the exterior, but it turned out the Wrexwren had a goopier inside than anticipated, at least around their limbs. Whatever noises Zerle Salvrin was making, there was no direct translation available, and perhaps that was a small mercy.
Not letting go of his prize, Fornax slapped Zerle Salvrin across the head with the newly detached arm, still flinging green goop all over the place. “You don’t have her protection, mighty Zerle. Since you came declaring war, none of your people do. What you considered an invasion, we think of as a pleasant diversion. You’ve given the Earth’s metas some new amusement, toys we can break to our heart’s content without fear of the blinding light interrupting the fun.”
Throwing his head back, Fornax let out a good old-fashioned villainous cackle. It came naturally, as did every part of this. That was the problem, being Fornax was too easy. There was no helping it for now, though. Making this work meant selling the part, so he allowed the dark impulses to wash over him. “You thought she was protecting us from the greater galaxy, didn’t you? Never once did it occur to you that perhaps Earth is home to innumerable monsters that would chew through what the rest of the cosmos considers to be threats. She’s not protecting us from the greater universe. She’s protecting the rest of you from things like me. That cute little ploy with your giant monster, what you likely thought to be a stroke of genius, was really just you sending away the only being who could have saved your people from this outcome.”
Another smack with the arm, more to horrify than to hurt. The job wasn’t yet done, and wouldn’t be until Lodestar completed her task. Fornax could break many things—he truly was an artist of the medium—but destroying hope was another matter. For that, he needed the power of a Lodestar. Until then, Fornax would simply have to amuse himself further.
“You lie... this is a trick...” Zerle Salvrin didn’t have quite the same confidence he had earlier in the fight—even his anger was being drowned out by uncertainty. They’d have to rekindle that flame soon, though not quite yet. Fornax preferred to hit him with the heaviest blows in rapid succession.
“Lying is for people too weak to own their truths. I am Fornax, one of the planet’s strongest combatants, renowned killer, and infamous villain. No tricks, no deceit. I’m just better. The only reason you aren’t dead yet is that I haven’t finished destroying you. Well, that...”
The blow was sudden and savage, a direct kick to the Wrexwren’s leg that completely shattered the lower half of the limb. Zerle Salvrin went sprawling, down to three functional appendages on both the upper and lower halves of his body. More harsh whistle-screams rang out as Fornax walked around him slowly, savoring each screech.
“That,” Fornax continued, “and I like the funny noises you make. Let’s see just how entertaining a Zerle can really be.”
“This might be getting a little violent.” Juan reached for the remote, intending to click away from the stream on the television. The hideout Ivan had sent Janet and the others to resembled a simple hotel on the fringes of a farming museum—not that there were any tours going on, given the day’s events. Everyone was huddled inside, though no Wrexwren ships had been seen anywhere near their vicinity. Or if they were, the security forces were handling it.
Janet’s hand moved before she’d thought it all through, snatching the remote away first. “You’re right. This is probably a bit much for Beth. Why don’t you two go to the lobby and get us some lunch?” She couldn’t turn away. Part of this was on her—she’d told Ivan the world needed to fear Fornax again. If anyone owed him a duty as witness, it was Janet. Besides, for all that had passed between them, some shard of her would always love Ivan, even if it was only the pieces of him she saw reflected in their children. He was fighting for the fate of the world and his family—at the very least, she could watch him do it.
“What about me?” Rick asked.
A month ago, it would have been such a simple question. Make him leave, keep him in the dark, as far from the truth as humanly possible. Now, he’d begun to unravel the shawl draped over their past. Sooner or later, there was a very real chance Rick was going to discover who his father was. He was going to hear horrible things about the man he called “Dad”—and worse, most of them would be true. Today would do little to alter that perception; watching Fornax torture a living creature, invader or not, would leave a sour taste in many people’s mouths. Then again, there would also only be so many times he might get to see his father helping to save the world, and whether people liked the methods or not, Fornax was pitching in. Based on the horrific stream of cries from the Wrexwren in that broadcast, it seemed as if the entire guild was.
“It’s up to you,” Janet decided and declared in the same breath. “Violent as it is, I can’t say this isn’t a historic moment for our planet. There is some value in watching it unfold.” Rick’s journey of discovery had thus far been largely self-directed, so Janet decided to let that trend continue.
“I’ll stay and watch. Finding out Fornax was alive was crazy enough. I never thought I’d get to see him cutting loose. Where the hell has he been all these years?” The flicker was brief, dispelled instantly by a brain not willing to contemplate such truths, yet Janet saw it all the same. A moment of concern, terror, on Rick’s face as he’d briefly entertained what no doubt seemed like a ridiculous possibility. Pity for him; the longer he mulled it over, the less implausible it would sound.
As Juan and Beth headed out, Janet changed her position. Moving from the chair, she sat down on one of the bed’s edges, next to Rick. If asked, she’d have said it was to get a better view—except Rick didn’t ask. Probably because he’d reached that conclusion already, or the fight on-screen was simply too engrossing.
Or, deep down, Rick knew why she’d moved into easy hugging range and didn’t yet want to face it. Janet, for her part, said nothing more. She didn’t trust herself not to give everything away, even with how close Rick was to the truth. All she could do was be there for her son no matter if he chose discovery or ignorance, and try to mend what remained if his entire world fell down around him.
Lozora slipped along, moving toward the sound of the fracas. Her employer should be where the action was by this point. The few advances she’d gotten were fine, but the bulk of her pay still hung in the balance, so he’d better have managed to make it on time. At least she didn’t have to worry about him losing upon arrival. There were capes who could potentially deal with him as a threat—temporarily, if nothing else—but they were all handling the much larger issue of an alien invasion. It was the most ludicrous, over-the-top distraction she’d ever even heard of, and it had been a large chunk of what convinced her to take the job. Anyone with that kind of ambition would be fun to watch whether they succeeded or flamed out spectacularly.
Her slender limbs made little sound as she crept, peering around a corner to spot Medley and some humanoid-dragon meta both looking through a hole in the floor. Dollars to cents, that would be where she found her target. How to approach was more complicated. Medley was no pushover, and the dragon certainly possessed the build of a bruiser. As a physical-based meta herself, two-on-one would put her at a disadvantage, even if they were individually weaker than she. Part of surviving meant avoiding needless risks, so Lozora eased back out of their sight.
The retreat lasted until she felt cold metal press into her back, and saw flashing lights in the corner of her eye.
“Tell us who the fuck you are right now, or I remodel your torso with an outside view. Whatever is left, Plasmodia can dice into pieces.”
“Hephaestus, that isn’t how superheroes work.” Cyber Geek stepped into view, some device that looked like a lantern with earmuffs fading back to sparks. That explained how they’d snuck up on her, though it didn’t really help the current predicament.
“Someone just captured a New Science Sentry and threatened to cut off his head. You’d better harden up fast, Cyber Geek. These people are not
playing around.” The voice from behind, Hephaestus, was spot on, not that Lozora could tell any of them that.
Raising her hands slowly, Lozora made her posture as nonthreatening as possible. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trespass, but there were aliens and a bunch of people with weird weapons, so I was trying to find somewhere to hide. Please, I can leave. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Horseshit. You, a clear meta-human, broke into a building surrounded by a violent battle in an attempt to escape danger? Tell me neither of you capes are buying this.”
Plasmodia stepped forward, the sharp light emitting from her hand forcing Lozora to blink and look away. “Honestly, no. I don’t believe it either.” The light suddenly dimmed, and Plasmodia shifted her hand away. “But being a superhero isn’t just about protecting honest people. She doesn’t have a weapon and didn’t try to attack either of our allies. At worst, I think we have a robber with bad taste. At best, a civilian with terrible luck.”
“Either way, you’re staying with us,” Cyber Geek declared. “It’s too dangerous to let you wander off if you really are a civilian, and too risky for us if you’re not. Stay close, out of the fight, and when this is all over we’ll see you to safety.”
Almost incapable of believing her luck, Lozora waited for the coldness on her back to move. It finally did, though not before the helmet came within touching distance, brushing against the side of her head. “Give me a reason. I dare you.”
The voice didn’t try to whisper, which made the need for proximity curious, but when the threat was delivered, Lozora found herself not being poked by the weapon, which she considered excellent progress. Not only did it sound like she’d found her employer, Lozora had also procured a front-row seat. If things went south, she might even be willing to jump in and help the plans stay running smoothly.
For an additional fee, of course.
Chapter 115
Agent Quantum’s swing went wide, sailing over the strange man’s head as he easily side-stepped the attempted blow. Crawling, Tachyonic tried to make it to the edge of the bed, unsure of what he’d even do once he was off it, but certain that he had to try something. He’d already known their enemy was powerful. Now, they were learning things was even worse: this bizarre man also had training.
Thus far, he hadn’t even delivered a single blow to Agent Quantum. There had been no need, when he could dodge every attack. It wasn’t that he was just fast, however. For all the capabilities taken from Tachyonic by being hobbled, he could still perceive things at near super-speed. Watching the fight in slow motion, it was easier to notice the small details, like how this man wasn’t actually quicker than Agent Quantum. He started reacting to the attack before it actually arrived, which could mean prophetic abilities, making them all the more screwed. Except sometimes, he had to tweak his dodges on the fly, meaning he didn’t know exactly what was coming, only the general shape. Strangely, the attacks that came closest were when Agent Quantum got sloppy and broke his form.
Taking it all in and processing through a sped-up brain, Tachyonic quickly reached the most viable explanation he could find. “Agent Quantum! This guy knows our playbook. That’s how he’s reading your moves.”
“Your playbook?” A hideous glare twisted around to Tachyonic, hatred flowing like the smoke drifting from cracks in his face. “These tactics are no more yours than the team name or costumes. I have fought the real Science Sentries, tracked their every development through the decades. If the true creators of your techniques were unable to defeat me with them, the sickly imitations will fare no better.”
The speech bought Agent Quantum a few moments to breathe, which he wisely utilized. Sounds came from overhead, and Tachyonic caught blurs of movement from Bahamut and Medley, along with what appeared to be more goons. Right, there were still a few stragglers around. Those two were probably holding the perimeter. He looked away just as a flash tugged at the corner of his eyes, but the smoking-armed man was much too dangerous to leave unwatched.
When Agent Quantum came again, he was moving differently. Not nearly as smooth or polished, he’d broken out of his usual form and was shifting more to a brawling style. Unrefined, true, but also less predictable. The first punch still missed, but the second managed to land. A solid uppercut that caught their enemy on the chin, resulting in a snap that brought warmth to Tachyonic’s heart... until he saw Agent Quantum grip his own fist in pain.
Before Agent Quantum could retreat, his opponent’s right hand snapped out, grabbing him by the shoulder and squeezing so hard it drove the big cape to his knees. “I’m afraid hitting me is only the first hurdle. You’d also have to be strong enough to inflict damage. Seems we’ve reached your limits already. How disappointing, and after your dear friend gave such an impassioned speech about how you’d stop me for certain.”
Agent Quantum tried to struggle, but it was no use. He was simply far weaker than his enemy. This was the difference in strength that existed in the meta-world.
Tachyonic pulled toward the end of the bed where that umbrella woman was huddled up, her odd yet effective shield fully extended, just in case. Nearly to the edge, Tachyonic had to jerk his head back as a fully masked face appeared in front of him.
Hunkering low, his small stature at last a boon, Presto put a finger to where his lips would be, pointing up through the hole as he slipped an arm around both of them. Tachyonic began to object, until Presto quickly whispered, “We have to get you both out so there’s room to fight. Why do you think the other heavies are waiting?”
Knowing it was the right tactic, Tachyonic bit his tongue. They weren’t running. They were getting out of the way… no matter how much it felt like abandoning a friend.
“Look, Agent Quantum. Your friends are so quick to leave you, perhaps there’s more in common with you and the original than I suspected.”
It was a good thing Presto looked up out of the hole and teleported at that moment, as Tachyonic might have tried to claw his way over. They popped out barely past the perimeter of the hole; at the angles Presto was working with, this was the best line-of-sight he could manage. All three collapsed in a heap, but Tachyonic was on his back, scoping things out before the others.
Throughout the hall there were a few newly downed crooks, as well as the entirety of their AHC forces, minus Agent Quantum below. Medley was already halfway through the hole, Bahamut right behind. Flanking either side of the floor’s entrance were Hephaestus and Plasmodia, both with arms up and energy at the ready. Further down one hallway, Tachyonic spotted Cold Shoulder forming an ice wall, cutting off potential avenues of attack, just like she’d done when they were controlling the flow of crooks getting in. Above him, Hat Trick and Cyber Geek were both looking down, the former wearing her concern plain on every part of her face not covered by a mask.
“Can you do anything?” She wasn’t talking to him, instead to Cyber Geek, who was making motions in the air like there was something only he could see.
“Got an idea, just haven’t had much chance to test it.” Cyber Geek produced a sci-fi-looking implement in a shower of blue sparks and numbers. “No outright healing items I’ve tried have worked on anyone because they were consumables, but status effects are another matter, like with my freeze ray. This is the Rally Rod from Galactic Conquest 9, an item that temporarily numbs pain and boosts the energy of every troop you use it on. It won’t fully heal you, but it might get you back in the fight for a little while.”
“Do it.” Tachyonic had to force himself to slow down enough to make the words comprehensible to these two.
A flicker of hesitation from Cyber Geek. “Thing is, I haven’t tried it yet, and in-game, it’s not described a pleasant experience—”
“My best friend is down there getting stomped because I got my stupid ass captured. Use the goddamn staff, now!” Medley and Bahamut were already through, yet Tachyonic knew it wouldn’t be enough. That guy was just too strong. Even getting momentarily healed, he had no ide
a what difference his speed could even make in the fight.
None of which mattered. There was no way in hell he was letting Austin face a match like that without his backup. He held on to that thought as Cyber Geek’s staff made contact and the incredible waves of pain began to flow from his ankle. It was all that kept him from passing out immediately.
Medley was only a few steps in front of Bahamut, yet he sprang with such ferocity upon landing that he reached the target substantially ahead of her. The strange man was unbothered by their appearance—given the wide smile on his smoking face, he might have even been happy to see them. Medley’s first round of blows were taken without flinching, before his opponent delivered a single backhand that sent the sizable cape sailing into, and through, one of the apartment walls. He crashed in the kitchen, creating a cacophony of pots and pans.
Slowing her own charge, Bahamut reconsidered the plan. That kind of strength was no joke, especially considering Medley’s general heft. Between that trick and the fact that their target was still holding Agent Quantum prone, it was evident they’d yet to push this stranger anywhere close to his limits. That didn’t mean all was lost; they did have a rudimentary plan in place, but brute force wouldn’t be enough.
“The guild’s new dragon is here, too, I see. You may want to scamper home, little lizard. I’m no more afraid of your organization than I am of theirs. Riding the reputations of your betters will do you no good in the real world.”
It was an obvious attempt to get under her skin, but it presumed she’d put far more sense of self into her villainy and strength than Beverly had even approached. That those were the targets he went for first was informative, however. People often attacked what they considered to be their own weak spots on others, because that was what they thought of as being most vulnerable.