by J. B. Garner
Chapter 9 Numbers
There was only one way our plan had a chance in hell of working and that was to neutralize the most dangerous opponent in our way. Conveniently, that person was also one of the lynchpins to the plan. Every once in a while, things worked out neatly like that.
Voltage and Medusa's shocking entrance bought us a moment to make our move as we collectively rushed down Mind's Eye. It hadn't been easy to convince everyone but Quentin of the need for this; the comic-book mentality of the Pushed thrived on the idea of neat little one-on-one combats. The problem with that was it was a sucker's game. Not only was the Indian seer the telepathic coordination of the Five, the very fact she could quite possibly take out even the toughest member of our own little cadre (sans myself or Quentin) with a twitch of a nerve ending made her priority one.
Frost swooped down like a shining silver arrow, only to be thrown aside by an invisible force. Mind's Eye's body might have been still having electric jitters, but her mind was keenly functioning. Another crack of thunder signaled Vee's play to launch himself straight at the Pushtech helmet that was screwing with her mind only for his electrical form to disperse, washing over a hemispherical barrier in the air. Electrokinesis ... that was a new one to add to the files. There were still three of us moving in and I doubted Eye had much more concentration to spare.
I was proven wrong when the sound of screeching metal echoed behind us. Still in mid-sprint, I glanced over my shoulder at the section of police barricade hurtling at our heads a hair too late. With no other choice, I threw myself to the ground. I wouldn't be doing anyone any good without a skull, after all. As the hunk of barrier flew past, I realized that we weren't its primary target as it caught Medusa in the side, tossing her to the concrete sidewalk.
Quentin seemed unperturbed by this latest development. He easily twisted and rolled past this final attempt to stop us, coming out of the roll at the blind woman's feet. As I pushed myself up to my knees, I got a good look at the fluid motion as he lashed out with a quick swing from one baton, aimed at the thickest part of the strange helmet. Mind's Eye staggered to one side, rattled by the head-ringing blow, leaving herself open to a thrust, just tapping her forehead below the rim of the helmet. With an upwards flip of his baton, Quentin wrenched the helmet up, sending it flipping over Mind's head.
The scream was no less heart-wrenching than Medusa's was when I ripped her headdress free. Mind's entire body made one horrible convulsion before she collapsed like a rag doll. Objective number one was accomplished. Of course, the prospect of living to celebrate that victory was looking a bit dark as our single-minded attack left us open to the wave of angry mind-altered Push Heroes that crashed down on us.
"Get away from her, you bad guy, or I'll run you over and stuff!" the Human Tank cried out, surprisingly brief for him, as he roared at top speed across the plaza. I wasn't even on my feet when the treaded teen careened into Quentin, taking them almost to the street. My first thought was to switch focus and help Quentin with Tank, but I was cut off by a solid wall of ice.
"Divide and conquer, Indy," Extinguisher said as he spiraled into the air on one of his ice slides. "You taught me that one yourself." Before Medusa, recovered from her daze, could get to her feet, Ex froze her hands to the ground with a sheet of ice. Ex indeed had learned that from me and it looked like I was all alone with both him and Hexagon about to drop the hammer on me. Joy.
I hopped back as Hexagon sailed through the air, slamming into the ground with authority. Anticipating the shockwave that a man strong enough to throw a tank can cause, I kicked off from the ground, turning the initial retreat into an attack. I had to be careful: Hexagon was, to most things, nigh-invulnerable but if I wasn't careful, I had a chance of putting serious hurt on the real man inside. Crashing into his broad chest with my knees, the big man let out a grunt of pain as he tottered back on his feet. Maybe I could make a lunge for his own helmet while he was off-balance.
The air crackled with the snapping of frost as I made my move. Instinctual panic registered and was shut off by my mental focus in a fraction of a second. Even though I knew a new suffocating ice helmet was coming, I had to make a try at this. My fingertips touched on the edge of the steel and plastic as ice formed around my neck and mouth.
"Let me even these odds!" The rumble of Frost's voice carried over the rapid wing beats came only a moment before Ex's cry of surprise and pain. A meaty impact caught my ears overhead and the rapid expansion of ice stopped. What remained still blocked off my mouth and kept my neck rigid, uncomfortable but I would deal with it. Too bad, though, that between my singular focus on that helmet and the distraction the ice had cause that I didn't see the huge arm reaching up for me.
Hexagon neatly snatched me about the waist with one immensely-strong hand, pulling me from my perch on his chest. Before I could do anything, he hurled me away with a shout. The only good thing was that, instead of flinging me straight into the unyielding pavement, he lobbed me with a slight arc to maximize our separation.
It was still a violent and jarring landing. Only lightning-fast reflexes and a rolling landing saved my head from bouncing off the concrete. Thank God that this was just the kind of crash my motorcycle suit was made for. Banged up, bruised, but mostly intact, I focused the pain away and concentrated on getting back to a vertical base.
Quentin had managed to get some space between himself and Tank, about to be forced to play matador to Tank's bull. Frost's collision with Ex had hurled him to the pavement and now they were engaged in a pointless duel of freezing blue dragon's breath against a cone of concentrated ice and cold. Voltage, well, if he was keeping to plan (as a military man, I expected that), he wouldn't be a factor for at least a few moments, which left Hexagon looming over Medusa.
With a shout, the snakewoman wrenched her hands free, shattering the ice, and looked up as the big man raised all six of his fists. I expected a combat stance from Meds. Instead she seemed to be frozen in shock. I tore off in a sprint, hoping to eat the distance in time. What the hell was wrong with her? Was it the mental strain? Had we actually been ready to get back into this so soon?
The shattering glass behind me, from the second floor of the Bank of America building, is what triggered the instinct to abruptly cut off my save and roll right. The static charge that stood all my body hair on end confirmed the wisdom of that move as a directed arc of electricity charred the ground where I had been standing. My dodge ended in a turn and a crouch. No way I'd get to Meds in time now.
The sniper was none other than Gaslight, the steampunk master of invention himself. He looked no different from when we had met fighting Mackenzie's vampire army. He hadn't seemed keen on helping in the aftermath then and the whole 'shooting in the back' thing didn't endear him to me anymore. Why was he here? He hadn't teleported in with the others. He drew another bead on me as Hexagon raised his fists to smash Medusa into snake pulp.
"Hex ... Henry!" Medusa's sudden shout distracted me enough that the next blast from Gaslight's Tesla rifle grazed my side, which sent sparks of electricity through every metal buckle and zipper of my suit. If it had been a real piece of tech, even a graze would have been potentially lethal. Pushtech, though, just didn't have much oomph against my natural immunities.
More importantly, the shout of what had to be Hexagon's actual name, something I didn't even know myself, made the six-armed punching machine seize up. His face contorted in agony and two of those massive mitts gripped his head.
"You can fight thisss, Henry," Meds hissed. Completely devoid of fear, no matter how deadly Hex could be, she gently caressed his chest with a clawed hand. "Think of what we mean to each other. Even like thisss, I'm not going to fight you. I ssstill love you."
"No!" Gaslight's echoing shout carried over the plaza from his perch. "Hexagon, remember where your real loyalties lie! To Epic! To me!"
I had always had my suspicions about Meds and Hex but I never knew for sure. Whatever they had shared in private (doing a far
better job at that then I and Ex had, apparently), it made Hex cry out as emotion fought with whatever cruel things that helmet was doing to his brain. Refusing to think about how this so neatly confirmed the end of my and Ex's relationship, I reached into my gear bag. Someone needed to shut up this asshole.
As I pulled out the tear gas grenade (Duane had insisted we load down for heavy-duty action), I only barely acknowledged Quentin riding on Tank's back, struggling with the youth's cybernetic strength. Frost tore through one of Ex's protective domes of ice with her silver claws and bore down on the ex-firefighter. I swung my arm in one fluid rotation, releasing my payload in one hard pitch.
The tear gas canister beaned off the side of Gaslight's skull, knocking his top hat right off his head. He wobbled, almost toppling out the broken window, but caught himself on the frame. There, that would shut his mouth a minute. The problem that came to mind, though, was that if he was here, there was a good chance my former physician might be here as well and that would be trouble.
Medusa literally had her hands on Hexagon's helmet and was about to yank when she, hell, everyone conscious in the area save for Quentin and myself suddenly spasmed in pain. The retching came in seconds as the sweats hit them in mid-collapse. Frost spiraled in mid-flight and bounced hard off the solid ground, cracking the pavement. One of a million of things could be wrong with them but the ultimate source of it was one man.
"It's Bio, isn't it?" Quentin whispered over the mic as he trotted up beside me. "Go for the helmets while we can?" As if on some hidden cue, the front doors of the Plaza swung open, revealing Doc Bio in the flesh. I didn't answer with a word, just a faint inclination of the head towards the Crusader walking towards us.
"I apologize for the indiscriminate nature of this, but I wished to test my theory," he said in a clear, unaccented voice. His olive skin and Roman nose combined with his bald scalp to give Bio the look of a vulture in his high-collared lab coat. What made Doc Bio so truly frightening was that his power seemed to be an unlimited capacity to control and manipulate biological matter and processes. He could cure you of the cold and give his enemies late-term brain cancer with two snaps of his fingers, if it suited him.
"Now, my friends, I would kindly ask you to stop this foolishness before people become more injured than they already are." Bio smiled with the pleasant look of a beneficent father talking to his children.
"Considering you can't really do anything us, I'm not seeing that happening," I said with not a hint of the false pleasantness he had.
"It's not what I can do to you that should be your concern," he said with a frown. "Now, as a doctor, I certainly don't wish to further harm any of my new patients, but I -"
Quentin and I rushed him during his speech. The Pushed were always the same. They never could shut-up.
Of course, when dealing with a man whose powers worked at the speed of thought, there was always a potential hiccup. It was Quentin who abruptly stopped and tackled me in the side, driving us both to the ground as the air rushed over our heads. A flash of silver is all I caught out of the corner of my eye until it stopped to turn and reorient.
It was Frost, but at the same time it wasn't. Certainly it was her body, but she certainly wasn't in control. Her eyes were darting around frantically as her powerful draconic form moved and roared outside of her control. Medusa rose to her feet with her usual serpentine grace and her unblinking eyes shared the same story as Frost's.
"This is not how I wished for this to go down." Bio's voice sounded truly regretful. "But I have no other less ... damaging ... way of subduing you."
"You bastard."
"You're the one introducing this chaos into the system, Indomitable. You're the disease to be cured."
Unable to resist the biokinetic impulses in their bodies, Frost and Medusa came in, one from the air, the other from our right. It was only a matter of moments before the other still-controlled Five recovered from his initial blast of sickness. Very bad odds.
Quentin rolled left and I pushed myself up and forward as Frost cut through the air, belching out a stream of frost and jagged ice as she went. I was barely on my feet when Medusa grabbed me from behind, hissing as her snakes danced in induced anger. I twisted in her grip as momentum carried us stumbling backwards. Even if her fangs weren't real enough to cut my flesh, her super-strong jaw had enough force to tear me open easily enough. With some struggle, I managed to drive my forearm against her jaw as she scissored her legs around my waist. It was only a matter of time before Medusa could lock in her grip and begin to squeeze.
This drama was, however, violently interrupted by a tremendous clap of thunder. There was a loud cry from Doc Bio as the entire world lit up behind me. With that cry, Medusa's grip slackened as she immediately went limp, leaving me to scramble to catch her before she hit the ground.
"Never fear, squaddies, Voltage is on duty," the buzzing voice proudly announced.
I was rarely so glad to hear a stupid quip as I was at that moment.
Chapter 10 Chase
"I'll grab Meds," I called out. "Vee, zap Frost and Mind's Eye with you. Q, keep an eye out."
I had no idea how long we had before the remaining members of the mind-warp club would wake up from Bio's induced sickness but our own people would be out as long, if not longer from the added strain of being puppeted on his biokinetic strings.
"Ma'am, I can't do that." Vee's buzz sounded as apologetic as stereo static possibly could. "Too much mass. Frost is a big girl."
Hexagon, the stoutest one among everyone here, was already starting to stir. Naturally, right when I had begun to rely on reality-shattering powers for a plan, we had to run into an arbitrary limitation. There was only one thing for it.
"Don't you dare say it," Quentin told me with a glare. I ignored the look.
"Right, Vee, get Meds and Eye. Quentin, get Frost." We both knew that he couldn't carry Frost and ride his bike for the same basic reason Vee couldn't take her and another passenger. I had considered having Voltage just take Frost alone, but this would all have been for nothing if Mind's Eye wasn't safely delivered out of harm's way. Voltage was the only way to guarantee that.
Quentin clenched his jaw, biting down on his objection. He had to have worked out everything as quickly as I had and come to the same conclusion. It wasn't my fault he didn't like it but at least he accepted it as he ran to haul Frost up into a fireman's carry. Voltage, used to following orders, nodded swiftly and gestured out with sparking hands to both of his passengers. He was gone with a clap of thunder.
"Don't die, alright?"
"What could possibly go wrong? We're superheroes, right?"
Quentin scowled and took off with his bulky cargo. I had to admit, he was making good speed all things considered, but between the seemingly star-struck crowd gaping and the advantages the Crusaders would have in tracking him. His chances of escape would normally be microscopic. Well, that's why I was still here. I turned to the remaining opposition, now mostly recovered from their respective shocks.
"So, who's first?" I smirked. "I've got plenty for everyone." I wasn't nearly that confident. Sure, one on one I had no doubt I could handle any of them but there were five of them and one of little old me. Of course, I didn't intend to sit around for long.
The answer started with a thunderous crack as Gaslight fired off a pulse from his Tesla rifle. I could have dodged it. For all his Pushed-imbued skill, the steampunk genius' reflexes were that of a normal human and mine were pushed beyond that. However, before I made my exit, I wanted to make a statement, to send a message not only to the Crusaders but to those people watching in wonderment and awe. In crude emulation of all of those comic books I crammed right after the Whiteout, I planted my feet and put my fists on my hips, right in the bolt's path.
It wasn't the bolt itself that hurt. To me, it was mostly unreal, just an overly aggressive bit of static electricity. There was still a very uncomfortable sensation as it passed through me, grounding out through my bo
ots, as the electricity sparked off and heated all the metal bits in my uniform. Still, the layers of the suit absorbed most of that and I certainly wasn't going to show what pain remained. As I stood there, smoking but seemingly unharmed, there was an unexpected, if subdued, cheer from the onlookers.
"If that's all you've got, I don't like your chances." I generally avoided the constant patter the Pushed used in a fight, but this time it had a purpose, so I indulged.
"You should worry more about us than him," Ex said as he motioned forward to Tank and Hex. "Surround and pound!" I guess they hadn't had time to come up with any new strategies since they had been helmeted.
Tank sped around for a charge coming in from the left, purposefully lagging a bit to let Hexagon go in for the 'distraction' from the right. Extinguisher took off and up on his ice slide. He was the real danger here, representing a threat that could come from any vertical angle while the others distracted the opponent, me in this case. It was a great bit of tactics, assuming your opponent wasn't intimately knowledgeable about them.
I meant to cut this all off quickly and hopefully put myself in a better position to make my own escape. Ducking to the right, Hexagon's massive frame served as an excellent shield from Gaslight's next snipe, an arc of lightning scoring the pavement to the left of both of us. Hex must have thought this was a perfect opening to smash me to the pavement, swatting at me like a bug.
Already in a low stance, it was simple enough to duck past the swat and reply with a sharp blow to the solar plexus, hard enough to wind the big man but hopefully not so hard as to cause any serious harm. Tank was tearing through the pavement behind me; I could hear his treads gouging concrete. I only had a moment to spare, but a moment was all I needed.
I pushed up with both legs, leaping up onto Hex's shoulders as he tried to catch his wind. One more bound from that precarious perch launched me up at my real target, the still-ascending form of Extinguisher. From the sounds of metal on stone below, I could only imagine Tank was having to break hard to avoid plowing into his teammate. He wouldn't, they both had too much experience for such a blunder, but it still held them both up a few moments.