by LE Barbant
The poet had a hand extended at one soldier. Her lips were moving. The man was stuck, frozen like an ant in amber. She dropped the spell and took a defensive pose as the other suit attacked.
She was good, but they were wearing her down. Magic and physical training wouldn’t hold up against two trained fighters outfitted in DARPA’s wet dream. These suits were years ahead of what he had seen used in the military, and the men operating them knew what they were doing.
“Well, shit, Zatanna,” he said, running toward the scene. “Looks like you need a hand.”
Tim intercepted the attack with a crack of his chain. The metal splintered the helmet’s tinted visor.
“What do you two douche bags say we make this a fair fight?”
Willa renewed her efforts against the soldier before he was able to recover from whatever spell she had cast on him.
The other focused his attention on Tim. The crack in his dark visor only added to his menacing appearance. “You’re the shit I kicked around the other day, aren’t you? Looks like I’ll have to break both of your legs this time.”
“Give it your best shot, asshat.”
He grabbed the loose end of the chain in his free hand as the soldier ran toward him, the suit easily doubling the man’s speed. But Tim was ready for the attack and with his chemically enhanced reflexes he dodged to his right. The soldier was thrown off guard by Tim’s inhuman quickness, and Tim caught the man’s arm in the arc of the chain. Pulling with everything he had, he spun the arm behind the soldier’s back and shoved him against the wall.
Tim’s newfound power was intoxicating, but the soldier’s mechanical strength still gave him an upper hand. The suit pushed off the wall with his free arm, pivoted, and landed a violent backwards kick to Tim’s chest. The ex-merc staggered from the blow, taking several steps back.
The exoskeleton attacked again, his fists two rockets. But Tim could handle a fight like this. He countered with a well-aimed jab. His chain-wrapped fist hit home, between the metal and cables of the exoskeleton. He felt a rib give way, but Tim’s attack was unrelenting, volleys of punches targeting the man’s kidneys.
A groan seeped from the helmet.
“That’s right, you’re still just some dude under that cheater suit, aren’t you?”
The soldier crouched in a defensive position, which gave Tim the opening he had been waiting for. He vaulted over the grunt and grabbed onto a thick cable running from the suit’s shoulders to a pack on its back. As he landed, he pulled hard, the momentum adding to his strength. Sparks flew as the cable gave way.
The man took one step forward, then dropped under the weight of the suit. He strained, trying to get up, but the weight of several hundred pounds of dead mechanics dropped the man to the floor.
Ford walked behind the Mayor’s massive desk and flipped it on top of the man.
“Nature wins.” He grinned.
With one suit down, Tim turned to help Willa. But she was gone; the fallen body of a beaten soldier was all that remained.
Tim knelt; pushing two fingers up underneath the helmet, he found a faint pulse.
“Just in case,” Tim said. With gritted teeth he jerked the cable from the soldier’s pack. If the man came to, he would likely be in no shape to fight, but without his armor it wouldn’t matter anyway.
Clanging metal drew his attention to the adjoining room. Tim raced for the foyer.
“Eli,” he yelled.
The metal monster had Elijah pinned against the wall. His friend’s feet dangled inches from the ground.
“Holy shit,” Tim muttered.
The armored man turned, catching a glimpse of Ford. Elijah’s legs started to kick and jerk. Tim wasn’t sure if asphyxiation was a possibility for Elijah in this form, but he didn’t want to find out.
He fashioned his chain as a whip, and snapped a wave of steel at the soldier. The links clanged off the armor.
No response.
This would take something more.
He wrapped both fists and applied the iron knuckles to the back of the soldier. Tim wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard something like a gravelly laugh.
The thing swatted at him like a fly and sent Ford flying into a row of filing cabinets.
Dazed, he crawled to his feet. There has to be a weak spot.
“Hey, Johnny 5, finish him off so I can have your full attention,” Tim yelled.
As the man turned, Tim kept his eye on the crease between the full-face helmet and the breastplate.
Bingo, bitch.
Turning back to Elijah, the soldier squeezed tighter.
Without sparing a moment, Tim sprung. Crossing the room in three steps, Tim jumped onto the back of the giant. He flipped a loop of chain around its neck, and shifted it into the perfect spot.
He pulled with all the strength he had and everything Chem had given him.
Dropping Elijah, the tank groped at Tim hanging off its back, its bulky arms struggling to reach. The suit tried a different approach. Turning, it drove itself backward into the wall. It battered Ford—crushing him between the metal armor and early twentieth-century plaster.
“Come on,” Tim yelled, pulling harder on the chain. He knew the chain was biting at human flesh. The two were racing to see which body would submit first.
A second time, and the soldier left a Tim Ford-shaped hole in the wall.
Stars passed in front of his eyes. Whether Chem’s serum was wearing off or the assault on his body was just too much, he couldn’t tell. Tim looked across the room. Elijah lay motionless. He knew that if he didn’t end the fight soon, the tank would.
As the large suit slammed into the wall again, Tim reached out, grabbing for anything he could use.
His hand found a piece of dangling lath.
“Last chance. Stop this now!” Tim pleaded.
For a fourth time the tank rammed its passenger.
Tim was losing his grip on the chain.
He had no other choice.
Forgive me.
Tim closed his eyes and stabbed the makeshift dagger between the armor’s plates. The wood sunk deep into flesh; blood pumped out of the crack. Ford’s aim was true; the jugular was severed. The thing was human after all.
Tim let go and dropped to the floor. Hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath as the suit stumbled forward.
It hit the floor and reached its enormous hands for the broken wood sticking from its neck. Failing, its arms dropped.
A faint voice crackled from the distorted mechanics. “Tim…”
A sick thought hit Ford harder than any attack from the tank.
Kneeling over the figure, he pulled on the helmet, finally wrenching it loose.
“No. No. No,” he screamed at the face as its blood slowly drained.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
“Dobbs,” Willa screamed. “Come out, you coward. Face me.”
Halogens flickered in the hall like a scary movie. The battle had done more damage to the building’s infrastructure than she realized. She stepped out into a larger room, where desks were separated by cubicles. Rage and years of misplaced anger raced through her veins.
She knew the ensuing moments would change everything.
“Come on, Dobbs. I’m going to find you. Come out now and I’ll finish you fast. It won’t hurt.” Willa paused. “Much.”
Double doors swung open under a red flickering EXIT sign. Five guys in suits charged into the room. In the dim light, Willa could just make out the first two.
Shit, Rizzo’s crew.
Willa dove, taking cover behind a workspace divider. The pop of gunfire filled the air. They sounded more like toys than she expected, which would have made her laugh if it weren’t for the anger boiling in her stomach.
The spell danced in her mouth before she stood. Rolling out into the line of fire, she finished the poem:
“Who falls into the fire shall burn with heat.”
The first two men dove to the side. They had seen her s
pell-work before and knew what to expect. The three behind them weren’t so fortunate. Fire burst from her hands, plowing through the men like a chariot.
Those still standing kept their heads down. Willa assumed they’d split up, trying to take her on the flank.
Think, Willa.
The fight against the mech suits had taken its toll. She was losing focus, the words of power eluding her. Without the strength to muster a strong enough spell, hand-to-hand combat was her only option. But the guns made it difficult. She decided to move right, hoping to take one of them by surprise.
She turned the corner, right into the business end of a sawed-off shotgun.
“Don’t move. And if I hear even a whisper coming from you I blow your damn head off.”
Willa stared back at the man. A smile slowly crept across her face.
“You think this is cute?” the man asked. “Dobbs wants you alive, but I’ll cut you in half if—”
A scaly hand cut off the goon in mid-speech. His double-barrel dropped from his hand and landed with a clatter.
A pale, vaguely reptilian creature jerked back the man’s head by the hair. Yellow jagged teeth sunk into his jugular.
Blood spewed everywhere as his body convulsed.
When the man’s legs stopped kicking, the monster looked up, giving Willa a horror-story smile. Blood ran down her neck and onto her chest.
“Thanks,” Willa said.
“My pleasure,” the creature replied, a harsh gurgle rolling off her tongue.
“You must be Rita.”
She ignored her. “I’ll take care of the other one. You find our mayor.”
****
Dobbs was waiting for her in Robert Vinton’s office. Nothing had been moved since the man’s death. It was a memorial—either to Vinton’s life or the fast pace of the election cycle. Thick drapes were drawn, blocking out nearly any trace of natural light. The green shade of the desk lamp was directed at the door, causing Willa to squint upon entrance. The Mayor sat behind the glare, a gun trained on the magician.
“You guys and your guns,” Willa said.
Dobbs laughed. “Not all of us our blessed with your…skills. We’re going to finish this on my terms. I imagine after today I won’t be dealing with the Weil family any longer. Unless, of course, your father gets some kind of revenge lust too. But he doesn’t seem like the type. Hell, maybe we’ll just neutralize him anyway. Cleaner that way, really.”
Willa’s eyes narrowed. The thought of her father in danger pushed her over the edge.
Mayor Dobbs scanned the room, taking in the office of his former Chief of Staff. “I don’t get why people can’t understand how the world works.” He tilted the gun, pointing it around the room. “This, all of this, is the reality of the system. We do what needs to be done because others won’t. The political grind has been ugly since the beginning—but it’s worked. That’s what it means to be a civil servant—keep the nastiest shit behind closed doors. You’re a poet. Here are some lines for you: ‘Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.’ They are their own kind of magic.”
“Machiavelli died of disappointment months after the people rejected him.” Willa sneered. “You can only kill so many before people start to notice.”
“Now, that’s exactly right. I mean, one can’t be a serial killer and survive in the spotlight. One life here, one life there, that’s the method. The news cycle moves too quickly for anyone to be concerned for very long. But you and your friends, you’ve made an impression that’s sure to last.”
Dobbs leaned casually against the desk. He seemed entirely unconcerned with the carnage he’d unleashed just outside his office.
“I’ve followed your story, Willa. We’ve kept an eye on you for a long time. Even looked into that kid that was killed. What was his name? Sam?”
“Sean,” Willa said through clenched teeth.
“Sure. Whatever. See, no one remembers.”
Dobbs laughed. “Now, Kinnard, that little shit, he’s caused some trouble. People actually have started to believe his pipe dreams, but he’s got no sense of reality. Pittsburgh is a cold, hard place, and it takes someone just as tough to run it. Don’t you think?”
Willa stood motionless, ignoring the rhetorical question.
She looked for an angle.
He continued. “Something needed to wake this city up. Thankfully, you and your freak friends gave me just what I needed. Actually, maybe it’s the chemist who was my true partner in crime. That serum of his sure took care of a lot of my problems. Like your grandfather, for instance…”
Willa moved to step forward but Dobbs raised his gun, locking her in place.
“Come now, he was old and washed up anyway. His little group, the Vox Populi—what horseshit. His death was of little consequence to this city. But when people started talking about monsters, I thought, ‘Now there is something that might just hold their attention.’“
“I think a murderous mayor will hold it even better.”
“Maybe,” Dobbs said. “But I imagine things aren’t going to end that way. If my warriors don’t finish off your friends, the Rizzo crew will. Not to mention that with one phone call, I could have City Hall surrounded by the National Guard and every officer in the city. You kids might have a few tricks, but I have the real power.”
“You won’t get away with it.”
Dobbs laughed. “How cliché. Not only will I get away with it, but tomorrow, as I stand on the steps outside of this building with an arm in a brace, I’ll tell the story about how the monsters broke in. How a private security detail took them down and saved my life. Your fish friend doesn’t have the luxury of hiding her true nature. When I wheel her out in front of the public, my poll numbers will rise faster than a cock in a strip club.”
“You’re repulsive.”
“I know.” The Mayor grinned. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Willa’s mind raced. Her limitations were strict. If she were built like Elijah, maybe she’d be able to take the bullet. But not being able to move or speak was a problem. She wondered how good a shot Dobbs was. If she could just get to some cover she might stand a chance.
“Good people won’t go away,” she said.
“Good people?” He laughed. “Is that what you teach your students? The white knight is the real urban legend here. Are you good, Professor? You’re out for justice? If I gave you a chance, you’d gut me right here on my desk. I dare say due process isn’t your first priority. What about your chemist friend? You think his work is for the people? No, people aren’t good. They’re just too weak to take what they want.” Dobbs waved around Vinton’s office. “Take Bobby, for instance. Now he had potential. That guy knew how to get stuff done, and I could count on him. But then he turned against us. Maybe it was conscience or fear of getting caught up in our web. I bet it was something else.”
“What’s that?”
“Opportunity. We’re all motivated by it, my dear. When I hired him, I knew I only had so long. Bobby was a hound dog who had caught a scent and nothing was going to stop that son of a bitch. But Vinton’s will to power gave me a perfect chance to increase my own. My ‘monsters’ beat him to a pulp and turned the whole thing around. Damn, that was good. Knocked it out of the park with Vinton’s death.”
A smile spread across Willa’s face. “Nothing like grabbing an opportunity when it presents itself.”
“Like low-hanging fruit,” the Mayor replied. “See, you get it.”
“That photo. Is that his family?” Willa nodded toward a spot on the bookshelf over Dobbs’ shoulder.
As he turned to look at the nonexistent photograph, Willa dove for cover behind a love seat. The distraction worked, but not as well as she’d hoped.
The snap of gunfire and the smell of powder filled the room.
Willa hit the ground.
Opportunity presented itself and she took it—along with a .40 caliber slug in the shoulder.
&nb
sp; CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Tim dropped next to the mechanized soldier. Salty tears mixed with blood on his cheeks. Her face was dark from the sun of the South, but red blisters had boiled up, as if the sun had taken its toll.
Her pupils dilated, as they looked at him.
“Ferocia Fatum Fugant,” she said, coughing at the effort.
Her face grew pale as its lifeblood drained. Paler than Tim Ford had ever seen it.
“Anna. I’m so sorry.”
The edges of her lips turned up just slightly. “Why do you think I didn’t kill you? That day. Back in the streets.” Her breathing was sporadic; the words came out in a stutter. “I didn’t think it would come to this, Tim. I didn’t sign up to fight you. You know, just making a buck.”
Tim pounded his thighs as he sat with his butt on his heels. “Why? Why did you do this?”
“We’ve done this for years, me and you. It’s the job, Tim. Don’t ask questions. Just do the job.” Her voice trailed off. Anna’s hand reached for Tim’s face but fell short. Her eyes became hollow. Then they stared toward nothing.
“Don’t leave me.” Tim Ford wiped tears from his cheeks with the back of his hands. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
He watched her and waited.
But there was nothing.
“Come back. Come back to me.”
Tim Ford threw his body on hers. But he and the woman he had always loved were separated by more than just a suit of metal armor.
CHAPTER FORTY
Elijah’s head pounded like he’d spent the week in Tijuana.
His molten form had fallen off of him, leaving behind his frail, damaged body. Fighting the tech soldier had taken its toll, another reminder that he wasn’t impervious to attacks. If it hadn’t been for Tim, he’d have been crushed.
He walked through the office, observing the bloodbath that Willa and Rita had left behind. The quiet of the building sent chills through his still warm body.
A sweater lay draped across the back of an office chair. He wrapped it around his lower body, a poor attempt at covering his nakedness.