“I can’t believe you have this, I mean I see it, but… still working on believing it.” Then I realize he was looking at me expectantly.
“Right, sorry doc, you could have shown me an alien and I would be less stunned. Go ahead.”
He wipes his brow and I can tell he’s eager. “What is it made of?”
It really is the only question he could ask. Everything else is easily guessable. However, this is my baby. I smile. At least I know he will appreciate the response.
“I found a way to bond tungsten carbide to titanium molecules.”
Now it’s his turn to be stunned.
“H—how?” he stammers out.
“Trade secret. I can’t have an army of these running around,” I say.
Like I would tell him anyway. I spent half my life building this thing to find the truth of what happened to my parents. What these people did to my parents. I’m not going to give up my one advantage.
“I guess you wouldn’t. Still, bonding titanium… are you a metallurgist?”
“I’m a lot of things. One of them is protective of my identity. There aren’t a lot of metallurgists with PhDs in the world. I answer your question and it won’t be hard to find out who I am.”
He nods. It’s not like they aren’t going to know soon enough. I have to join if I want to find out the truth. I glance back at the ZPF in the other room. I know what is on my Christmas list.
8
It’s been two weeks and I haven’t given them my answer. Domino offered me probationary membership. It’s a big deal as they have no probate members at the moment. I would be the only one. Considering they have two empty slots to fill, I would be a fully-fledged member in no time.
That’s the problem. I’m still not sure I’m ready to tell them who I am. It never occurred to me Cat-7 would be as involved as they are. If I join, I will have unfettered access. It shouldn’t take Epic and I long to find them. On the flip side, they will know who I am. They’ll know I’m the daughter of John and Hope Lockheart. I’m stalling in the hope of finding a way to fix this… well, that and I wanted more time to come up with the answer to the zero-point equation.
I wheel over to the glass I use as a chalkboard to take my mind off this. It is low enough I can reach it top to bottom without much effort. I’ve tried these calculations seven ways from Sunday; none of them work. This may be the first time in my life I haven’t been smart enough. There is simply no way to make a stable zero-point field. None.
“Whatcha working on?” Carlos asks from the window. He crawls through and flops down on my bean bag.
“No, by all means, come in, you’re not interrupting anything.”
My sarcasm flies right by him. He reaches over and opens my little fridge and pulls out a soda.
“I’m trying to find a way to stabilize a quantum field so energy is both infinite and finite in a given space, at the same time. I don’t think it can be done. I know it can be done. I just don’t know how.”
“Infinite energy. That would power the hell out of your suit.”
He takes a long pull from the Coke. Now I’m thirsty. I wheel over to the fridge and grab one of my own. Caffeine helps me think.
“Yep. Pretty much.”
I need it too. I added a particle beam to my ever-expanding lineup. Only on my right forearm. It will cut through hardened steel. I consider it extremely lethal. A last ditch for a super out of control, or if I have to cut something away in a hurry. The problem is I have to shunt all power to it. No kinetic shields, no IP cannons, nothing. Not only will it take all the energy I can produce, it will sap my batteries. I estimate a thirty-second recharge cycle. If I use it, I better make damn sure it’s the last thing I need.
“You going to join them?” he asks as he takes another long drink.
I heave a sigh, I have to, I don’t want to. I like Domino; of course I think everyone likes her. “Once they know who I am it won’t take them long to figure out whose daughter I am. They took my parents. They’re going to suspect something.”
“I’ve never asked, niña, but… you were six? Are you sure it was them? What if everyone was telling the truth, as painful as it sounds. Mira, it doesn’t seem likely everyone, including your family, would lie to you, does it?”
I’ve been over that moment in my head a million times. I know the psychological effects of reliving a trauma and how an incorrect memory can seem real. Even more so than an actual memory. Am I crazy? Did I imagine what happened?
I look down at my hands. I remember. I remember him taking them and looking me in the eye and telling me I would be okay. It wasn’t a dream, I wasn’t unconscious, it happened.
“It happened, Carlos, I know it did,” I say finally.
“Too bad you’re not Carlos Rodrigo Dominguez. I think every Hispanic from here to Columbia is named Carlos or Rodrigo. Can you fake your identity?”
It’s a thought. One I’ve given a lot of weight too. However, Epic says it won’t work. I shake my head, “According to Epic, it won’t hold out for anything past state level. There are sealed databases even he can’t get access to. Once I sign they will run background checks and it will reveal the truth. Better to go in as me and be ready.”
I wheel back over to the suit. I’ve poured my heart into it. I run my hands along the rough exterior. The only smooth portion is the quarter moon shaped faceplate. I could have made the whole thing smooth and shiny, but it didn’t seem like it would look right. I’m glad I didn’t. The shades of red and white really give it a versatile look. Not too dark, not too light. I grin. Okay, it is badass looking.
“You admire that thing too much, niña.”
“You could be right. Well, I’m not going to accomplish anything more tonight. Stay for a movie?”
He smiles, “Why do you think I came? Your TV is way better than mine.”
It’s a good movie, sci-fi, one of my favorites. Star Trek never gets old. I can’t focus on it though. My mind wonders back to the ZPF equation. Without something more, I don’t see how it could work. Obviously, their understanding of Quantum mechanics is greater than mine. At the same time, it can’t be. It’s a finite field of study. There is only so much to learn and once you have it all, the only place to learn more would be at a place like Cern, with a particle accelerator. I’ve read every book, every paper. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought of zero-point energy.
They did it. Somehow it is possible. If it’s possible for them, by golly it’s possible for me.
9
Phoenix isn’t exactly a bastion of super-powered criminals. Patrols are four-hour shifts taken twice a day. As a probationary member, I must be followed by a full-time member at all times. I accepted a week ago and after the forms I had to fill out relieving them of obligation if I die, and the training videos, I was allowed out on patrol. On today’s patrol it’s Mr. Perfect.
He’s a nice enough guy but he talks almost nonstop. Ask him one simple question about his energy constructs and he won’t shut up about his magic. As if he isn’t another creation of the Wardenclyffe incident. Yet, somehow, he is among a group who claim they aren’t. They’re special; they can do magic. They’re special alright, just the kind you treat with medication.
“When I twist my hand this way and say Ectal-muhabeny it gets really interesting.”
He stops long enough to take a bite of his hot dog. This feels surreal to me. We’re standing downtown surrounded by skyscrapers and he’s sitting on his hover-bike, eating a hot dog while I stand against the wall with my arms crossed. His costume is nothing more than an elaborate tux and a red cape. He carries a top hat and a magician’s cane with him. As ridiculous as he is, I do notice he isn’t sweating. Interesting.
People stop by every few minutes to have their picture taken with Mr. Perfect. Cars honk their horns at the magical man and drivers wave. A few look at me but I haven’t made the news yet; they don’t even know my name. As he smiles for another shot I can’t help but wonder if he named hims
elf.
“Perfect, Arsenal, we have a possible sighting of Vixen downtown. Your cell will have the exact coordinates,” central chimes over the radio. Mr. Perfect has an earpiece. I tuned in one of my receivers to the right frequency. A red pip popped up on my HUD. Epic creates a least time route for me instantly. Mr. Perfect acknowledges the call, takes one more picture with a very pretty Japanese woman and then hops on his bike. He blasts off on the anti-gravity tech they use for the members who can’t fly. I put my arms straight down with my palms at a forty-five-degree angle and light off my thrusters.
“Epic, let’s shunt power to the Kinetic fields. I don’t want any surprises.”
Affirmative.
The lights on my cannons, life support, and every other non-critical system dim. It means I have to wait a few seconds to charge my IP cannons, but it also gave me 100% shielding.
It might be overkill and as far as I know her crew was still in lockup. As far as I know.
“Federal Marshals have been notified and have their own agent en route, call sign Bricklayer.”
Epic pops up a small window with his stats. Typical Fed, all strength and invulnerability.
Mr. Perfect acknowledges them while I focus on flying. We didn’t have far to go. I throw my hands out in front of me to counter my thrust and set the armor down next to a row of tables sitting under the kind of mist sprayer everyone uses to stay cool outside.
I light up my whole sensor suite. The canyon-like walls of the city limit the range I can ‘see,’ but if she’s near, I’ll have her.
“Epic, tap into local traffic cams and see if you can’t spot her.”
He pings acknowledgment on my screen. Hacking isn’t easy for him; it increases the chance of being detected. However, a good first patrol wouldn’t go unnoticed. Also, I wouldn’t mind having a killer like Vixen off the street. The quicker I can get on the main team—
A piece of lead a half inch wide and almost two inches long blasts through my kinetic shields and hits me square in the faceplate. My head snaps back and I’m seeing stars as I stumble backward. Pain blossoms in my stomach and I feel like I’ve been punched. I scramble back trying to find something to cover myself. My kinetic shields are offline, and my HUD is blinking in and out of existence. The area around me glows with a pink hue. I blink away the stars and I see Mr. Perfect standing over me, waving his hands in complicated patterns forming a shield.
“What the hell was that?” he asks.
I don’t know. My HUD reboots and Epic is back in full control. There is a scratch on my faceplate. Un-freaking-believable.
“Can your shield stop a fifty-caliber sniper rifle firing tungsten penetrators?” I ask him.
This is the round Epic is showing me in detail on my HUD. It is freaking huge.
“Hell no. It can keep them from seeing you. Whoever is firing that kind of ordinance isn’t likely to blind fire.”
I nod. No, not likely.
“Epic, do you have a twenty on the shooter?”
Affirmative. Two miles due east, on the roof of the Park building.
“He’s two miles to the East. Holy hell! Who could make a shot like that?” I ask Mr. Perfect. He shrugs.
“Okay, hold the shield, my batteries are recharged. I’m going to take off and hit him. You follow as quickly as you can.” He opens his mouth to argue but stops himself. I can imagine he doesn’t want to get hit by one of those rounds.
I nod and hold up my hand, three, two one. Thrusters blow the debris and dirt from around me as I shoot up into the air through the glass of the outdoor cafe. I hope the Diamondbacks insurance covers that. I don’t want to have to write a check for it.
“Epic, show me the math.”
A string of calculations flash to life in front of my eyes. Whoever made this shot is either the best shooter in the world or someone with super-powered help. I divert all power to the kinetic shielding. No doubt the only reason I’m still alive is because I had full power to them when I landed. Tungsten penetrators? Why would the shooter load armor piercing rounds?
The roof appears from behind the last building and I can see him; he’s dressed all in black, with a ninja mask and a hulking sniper rifle shouldered. The barrel alone has to be three feet long. He brings it up to bear on me. I don’t want to risk another hit. I swerve hard as fire leaps out of the barrel. I don’t have time to aim; I eyeball with my kinetic lance and fire. The concrete roof in front of him explodes. He flies through the air to land on his back ten feet away. The rifle rolls from his hands to clatter against the pebbled roof.
“Charge IP Cannons, fifty percent.”
They light up green as the man jumps to his feet. He draws two pistols so fast it was like I didn’t see him move. Each one spits out twenty rounds. The shield absorbs all their energy and the bullets drop harmlessly to the ground.
“Who are you?” I demand in my synthesized voice.
“Help me, please,” he replies. Help him? He’s trying to kill me. He drops his pistol and pulls out a grenade. It might cause collateral damage but—he runs straight at me.
My thrusters flare to life and I’m airborne.
“Epic, why did you—”
Below me the man screams as the grenade bursts to life. It isn’t explosive, it’s thermite. A fountain of white fire burns into the air like a kid’s firework. The grenade engulfs him in orange flame. His screams of agony fade as the chunk of charred meat that used to be a human being falls to the rooftop.
I guide myself to land. My heart thumps in my chest and my stomach feels like it’s in trouble.
“Open faceplate,” I gurgle. It opens a second before I spew vomit on the roof. I drop to my knees and heave again. I try not to look at the puddle of molten metal and flesh that used to be a man. That could have been me. Titanium melts at three thousand degrees. Thermite burns at four thousand. I vomit one more time, the last of my breakfast coming up. I can’t stop the shaking as I roll over onto my back to look at the sky. The faceplate slides shut a few seconds before I hear the whine of Mr. Perfect’s hoverbike.
“Holy shi—what did you do?”
Between the tungsten rounds and the thermite, this sure feels like it was directed at me.
10
“You sure you don’t want any time off?” Kate asks me.
We’re hanging out in her office, not the hidden HQ. She says she prefers the quiet, and none of the guys from the California team can hit on her if she’s not there. I’m pretty sure she means Triple Threat. He’s three copies of the same person. The only difference is their powers: strength, speed, and flight.
“No, I’m good, I think. I’ve never seen anyone die before. Let alone as horrible….”
I shake my head as the image of him burning to death haunts me. I desperately want to take the armor off suddenly, but I’ve still found no way to do it without my equipment at the workshop.
She’s sipping a diet soda and looking out the window of her office.
“I’m really sorry. I can’t imagine how awful it must have been. I don’t know if it will make you feel any better, but I’ve been there. My first year out I was in the field when an F4 strong man beat up his girlfriend. We had more members back then. It took the whole team to subdue him. You think an F4 is only a little more powerful than an F3 like Luke, but no. It’s exponential. The coroner’s office had to scrape her up with shovels,” she finishes with a full body shiver.
She’s not the only one. I can’t make my hands stop shaking. I still can’t understand why he would kill himself as a last-ditch effort to kill me? I’ve put exactly one person in jail, and I’m pretty sure Rhino wasn’t behind this.
“Any ideas why he was trying to kill me?”
She cocks her head to the side and raises an eyebrow at me. “What? Oh, no honey he… was a psychopath. All Deadman wanted was to kill every person with powers he could get his hands on. He’s murdered dozens of F1’s. You just happened to be there. He could have just as easily gone after Pierre.”
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br /> Something about her theory didn’t sit right with me. If any super would do, why load armor piercing rounds? Why have a thermite grenade? He carried practically the only two weapons on Earth capable of hurting my armor.
“What’s an F1, anyways? I thought it didn’t start counting until three?” I ask.
“Normally we do. F1’s can’t do any real property damage. They have passive powers or useless ones. Since the Wardenclyffe incident in 1903, there have always been those who aren’t as… blessed as you and I.”
“Kate, I’ve told you, I don’t have superpowers,” I tell her with a shake of my head.
She smiles like I’m trading an inside joke with her, “Well until you get out of the armor, the boys in the lab aren’t going to believe you. They all think you’re mentally controlling the metal, or you’re some kind of sentient construct.”
I would say those things are crazy, but we live in the kind of world where all of it is possible.
“I’ve heard of people with powers who are super intelligent, able to craft things no one else can,” she says looking sideways at me. “There aren’t many, but a few.”
I’m taken aback enough to freeze. It never occurred to me my intelligence could be a superpower. But… no, I shake my head.
“I worked for it. I didn’t wake up one day and build this suit. I’ve scraped, clawed, and struggled for every inch. I did the same things every other engineer has done; I just did it four times faster.”
Crap, did I give too much away?
“There’s a pool you know, in the main clubhouse.”
“I don’t swim,” I say slowly.
When you can’t kick your legs, water is terrifying. I shudder just thinking about it.
“No, silly,” she laughs, “a betting pool. On what you are. Care to give me a hint? I’ll happily split the winnings with you.”
I think about it for a minute. I like her, I really do, and she seems to like me. I don’t want to let any of these people in, but equally, I don’t want to learn that she’s involved. Can I know for sure? She is only six or seven years older than me, which means she couldn’t have worked for Cat-7 when it happened. At the same time, she’s worked with them since she was eighteen years old.
Full Metal Superhero Box Set [Books 1-6] Page 5